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UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
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REMOTE  S-('O.RAGE 


PREFACE. 


In  the  course  of  my  labors  preparatory  to  writing  a  history 
of  the  Sinaitic  peninsula,  the  study  of  the  first  centuries  of 
Christianity  for  a  long  time  claimed  my  attention;  and  in  the 
mass  of  martyrology,  of  ascetic  writings,  and  of  histories  of 
saints  and  monks,  which  it  was  necessary  to  work  through  and 
sift  for  my  strictly  limited  object,  I  came  upon  a  narrative  (in 
Cotelerius  Ecclesiae  Grecae  Monumenta)  which  seemed  to  me 
peculiar  and  touching  notwithstanding  its  improbability.  Sinai 
and  the  oajjuJ  of  Pharan  which  lies  at  its  foot  were  the  scene  of 
action 

When,  in  my  journey  through  Arabia  Petraea,  I  saw  the 

caves  of  tlie  anchorites  of  Sinai  with  my  own  eyes  and  trod 

■  ^heir  soil  with  my  own  feet,  that  story  recurred  to  my  mind, 

O  {%ad  did  not  cease  to  haunt  me  while  I  traveled  on  further  in 

J  the  desert 

A  soul's  problem  of  the  most  exceptional  type  seemed  to  me 
to  be  offered  by  the  simple  course  of  this  little  history, 
o      An  anchorite,  falsely  accused  instead  of  another,  takes  his 
^.  punishment  of  expulsion  on  himself  without  exculpating  him- 
self, and  his  innocence  becomes  known  only  through  the  con- 
fession of  the  real  culprit. 

There  was  a  peculiar  fascination  in  imagining  what  the  emo- 
tions of  a  soul  might  be  which  could  lead  to  such  apathy,  to 
'^  isuch  an  annihilation  of  all  sensibility;  and  while  the  very  deeds 
P  and  thoughts  of  the  strange  cave-dweller  grew  more  and  more 
—  vivid  in  my  mind,  the  figure  of  Paulus  took  form,  as  it  were  as 
an  example,  and  soon  a  crowd  of  ideas  gathered  round  it,  grow- 
ing at  last  to  a  distinct  entity,  which  excited  and  urged  me  on 
till  I  ventured  to  give  it  artistic  expression  in  the  form  of  a 


[40950 


7U1  PREFACE. 

narrafcire.  I  was  prompted  to  elaborate  this  subject^^which 
had  long  been  shaping  itself  to  perfect  conception  in  my  mind 
as  ripe  material  for  a  romance — ^by  my  readings  in  Coptic 
monkish  annals,  to  which  I  was  led  by  Abel's  Coptic  studies; 
and  I  afterward  received  a  further  stimulus  from  the  small  but 
weighty  essay  by  H.  Weingarten  on  the  origin  of  monastinism. 
in  which  I  still  study  the  early  centuries  of  Christianity,  espe- 
cially in  Egypt. 

This  is  not  the  place  in  which  to  indicate  the  points  on  which 
I  feel  myself  obliged  to  differ  from  Weingarten.  My  acute 
fellow-laborer  at  Breslau  clears  away  much  which  does  not  de- 
serve to  remain,  but  in  many  parts  of  his  book  he  seems  to  me 
to  sweep  with  too  hard  a  broom. 

Easy  as  it  would  have  been  to  lay  the  date  of  my  story  in 
the  beginning  of  the  fortieth  year  of  the  fourth  century  instead 
of  the  thirtieth,  I  have  forborne  from  doing  so  because  I  feel 
able  to  prove  with  certainty  that  at  the  time  which  I  have 
chosen  there  were  not  only  heathen  recluses  in  the  temples  of 
Serapis  but  also  Christian  anchorites;  I  fully  agree  with  him 
that  the  beginnings  of  organized  Christian  monasticism  can  in 
no  case  be  dated  earlier  than  the  year  350. 

The  Paulus  of  my  story  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
'  first  hermit,"  Paulus  of  Thebes,  whom  Weingarten  has  with 
good  reason  struck  out  of  the  category  of  historical  person- 
ages. He,  with  all  the  figures  in  this  narrative,  is  a  purely 
fictitious  person,  the  vehicle  for  an  idea,  neither  more  nor  less. 
I  selected  no  particular  model  for  my  hero,  and  I  claim  for 
him  no  attribute  but  that  of  his  having  been  possible  at  the 
period;  least  of  all  did  I  think  of  Saint  Anthony,  who  is  now 
deprived  even  of  his  distinguished  biographer  Athanasius,  and 
\jho  is  represented  as  a  man  of  very  sound  judgment,  but  of  so 
scant  an  education  that  he  was  master  only  of  Egyptian. 

The  dogmatic  controversies  which  were  already  kindled  at 
the  time  of  my  story  I  have,  on  careful  consideration,  avoided 
mentioning.  The  dwellers  on  Sinai  and  in  the  oasis  took  an 
eager  part  in  them  at  a  later  date. 

That  Mount  Sinai  to  which  I  desire  to  transport  the  reader 


PREFACE.  IX 

must  not  be  confounded  with  tine  mountain  which  lies  at  a  long 
day's  journey  to  the  south  of  it.  It  is  this  that  has  borne  the 
name,  at  any  rate  since  the  time  of  Justinian;  the  celebrated 
convent  of  the  Transfiguration  lies  at  its  foot,  and  it  has  been 
commonly  accepted  as  the  Sinai  of  Scripture.  In  the  descrip- 
tion of  my  journey  through  Arabia  Petraea  I  have  endeavored 
to  bring  fresh  proof  of  the  view,  first  introduced  by  Lepsius, 
that  the  giant-mountain,  now  called  Serbal,  must  be  regarded 
as  the  mount  on  which  the  law  was  given;  and  was  indeed  so 
regarded  before  the  time  of  Justinian — and  not  the  Sinai  of  the 
monks. 

As  regards  the  stone  house  of  the  senator  Petrus,  with  its 
windows  opening  on  the  street — contrary  to  eastern  custom — I 
may  remark,  in  anticipation  of  well-founded  doubts,  that  to 
this  day  wonderfully  well-preserved,  fire-proof  walls  stand  in 
the  oasis  of  Paran,  the  remains  of  a  pretty  large  number  of 
similar  buildings. 

But  these  and  such  external  details  hold  a  quite  secondary 
place  in  this  study  of  a  soul.  While  in  my  earlier  romances 
the  scholar  was  compelled  to  make  concessions  to  the  poet  and 
the  poet  to  the  scholar,  iu  this  one  I  have  not  attempted  to  in- 
struct, nor  sought  to  clothe  the  outcome  of  my  studies  in 
forms  of  flesh  and  blood;  I  have  aimed  at  absolutely  nothing 
but  to  give  artistic  expression  to  the  vivid  reahzation  of  an  idea 
that  had  deeply  stirred  my  soul.  The  simple  figures  whose 
inmost  being  I  have  endeavored  to  reveal  to  the  reader  fill  the 
canvas  of  a  picture  where,  in  the  dark  background,  rolls  the 
flowing  ocean  of  the  world's  history. 

The  Latin  title  was  suggested  to  me  by  an  often  used  motto 
which  exactly  agrees  with  the  fundamental  view  to  which  I 
have  been  led  by  my  meditations  on  the  mind  and  being  of 
man;  even  of  those  men  who  deem  that  they  have  climbed  the 
very  highest  steps  of  that  stair  which  leads  into  the  heavens. 

In  the  "  Heautontimorumenos  of  Terence,"  Chremes  an- 
swers his  neighbor  Menedemus  (Act  I.,  Sc.  I.,  v.  25): 

"  Homo  sum;  humani  nil  a  me  aiienum  puto,"  which  Don* 
aer  translates  literally: 


X  PREFACE. 

"  I  am  human;  nothing  that  is  human  can  I  regard  as  alien 
to  me. " 

But  Cicero  and  Seneca  already  used  this  line  as  a  proverb, 
and  in  a  sense  which  far  transcends  that  which  it  would  seem 
to  convey  in  context  with  the  passage  whence  it  is  taken;  and 
as  I  coincide  with  them,  1  have  transferred  it  to  the  title-page 
of  this  book  with  this  meaning: 

"  I  am  a  man;  and  I  feel  that  I  am  above  all  else  a  man." 

Leipzig,  iVowmder  11,  1887. 

GEOEG  EBEES. 


HOMO  SUM. 


PART  I. 


CHAPTER  L 

Rocks — ^naked,  hard,  red-brown  rocks  all  round;  not  a  bush, 
not  a  blade,  not  a  clinging  moss  such  as  elsewhere  nature  has 
lightly  flung  on  the  rocky  surface  of  the  heights,  as  if  a  breath 
of  her  creative  life  had  softly  touched  the  barren  stone.  Noth- 
ing but  smooth  granite,  and  above  it  a  sky  as  bare  of  cloud  as 
the  rocks  are  of  shrubs  and  herbs. 

And  yet  in  every  cave  of  the  mountain  wall  there  moves  a 
human  life;  two  small  gray  birds,  too,  float  softly  in  the  pure, 
light  air  of  the  desert  that  glows  in  the  noonday  sun,  and  then 
they  vanish  behind  a  range  of  cliffs,  which  shuts  in  the  deep 
gorge  as  though  it  were  a  wall  built  by  man. 

There  it  is  pleasant  enough,  for  a  spring  bedews  the  stony 
soil;  and  there,  as  wherever  any  moisture  touches  the  desert, 
aromatic  plants  thrive,  and  umbrageous  bushes  grow.  When 
Osiris  embraced  the  goddess  of  the  desert — so  runs  the  Egyp- 
tian myth — he  left  his  green  wreath  on  her  couch. 

But  at  the  time  and  in  the  sphere  where  our  history  moves 
the  old  legends  are  no  longer  known  or  are  ignored.  We  must 
carry  the  reader  back  to  the  beginning  of  the  thirtieth  year  of 
the  fourth  century  after  the  birth  of  the  Saviour,  and  away  to 
the  mountains  of  Sinai,  on  whose  sacred  ground  solitary  an- 
chorites have  for  some  few  years  bein  dwelling — men  weary  of 
the  world,  and  vowed  to  penitence,  but  as  yet  without  connec- 
tion or  rule  among  themselves. 

Near  the  spring  iu  the  little  ravine  of  which  we  have  spoken 
grows  a  many-branched  feathery  palm,  but  it  does  not  shelter 
it  from  the  piercing  rays  of  the  sun  of  those  latitudes;  it  seems 
only  to  protect  the  roots  of  the  tree  itself;  still  the  feathered 
boughs  are  strong  enough  to  support  a  small  threadbare  blue 
cloth,  which  projects  like  a  pent-house,  screening  the  face  of  a 
girl  who  lies  dreaming,  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  glowing 
stones,  while  a  few  yellowish  mountain  goats  spring  from  stone 
to  stone  in  search  of  pasture  as  gayly  as  though  they  found  the 
midday  heat  pleasant  and  exhilarating.     From  time  to  tim« 


12  HOMO    SUM. 

tho  girl  seizes  the  herdsman's  crook  that  h'es  beside  her,  and 
calls  the  goats  with  a  hissing  cry  that  is  audible  at  a  consider- 
able distance.  A  young  kid  comes  dancing  up  to  her.  Few 
beasts  can  give  expression  to  their  feelings  of  delight;  but 
young  goats  can. 

The  girl  puts  out  her  bare  slim  foot,  and  playfully  pushes 
back  the  little  kid  who  attacks  her  in  fun,  pushes  it  again  and 
again  each  time  it  skips  forward,  and  in  so  doing  the  shepherd- 
ess bends  her  toes  as  gracefully  as  if  she  wished  some  looker-on 
to  admire  their  slender  form.  Once  more  the  kid  springs  for- 
ward, and  this  time  with  its  head.  down.  Its  brow  touches  the 
sole  of  her  foot,  but  as  it  rubs  its  little  hooked  nose  tenderly 
against  the  girl's  foot,  she  pushes  it  back  so  violently  that  the 
little  beast  starts  away,  and  ceases  its  game  with  loud  bleating. 

It  was  just  as  if  the  girl  had  been  waiting  for  the  right  mo- 
ment to  hit  the  kid  sharply;  for  the  kick  was  a  liard  one — 
almost  a  cruel  one.  The  blue  cloth  hid  the  face  of  the  maiden, 
but  her  eyes  must  surely  have  sparkled  brightly  when  she  so 
roughly  stopped  the  game.  For  a  minute  she  remained  mo- 
tionless; but  the  cloth,  which  had  fallen  low  over  her  face, 
waved  gently  to  and  fro,  moved  by  her  fluttering  breath.  She 
was  listening  with  eager  attention,  with  passionate  expectation; 
her  convulsively  clinched  toes  betrayed  her. 

Then  a  noise  became  audible;  it  came  from  the  direction  of 
the  rough  stair  of  unhewn  blocks,  which  led  from  the  steep 
wall  of  the  ravine  down  to  the  spring.  A  shudder  of  terror 
passed  through  the  tender  and  not  yet  fully  developed  limbs 
of  the  shepherdess;  still  she  did  not  move;  the  gray  birds  which 
were  now  sitting  on  a  thorn-bush  near  her  flew  up,  but  they 
had  merely  heard  a  noise,  and  could  not  distinguish  who  it  was 
that  it  announced. 

The  shepherdess's  ear  was  sharper  than  theirs.  She  heard 
that  a  man  was  approaching,  and  well  knew  that  one  only 
trod  with  such  a  step.  She  put  out  her  hand  for  a  stone  that 
lay  near  her,  and  flung  it  into  the  spring  so  that  the  waters  im- 
mediately became  troubled ;  then  she  turned  on  her  side,  and 
lay  as  if  asleep  with  her  head  on  her  arm.  The  heavy  steps 
became  more  and  more  distinctly  audible. 

A  tall  youth  was  descending  the  rocky  stair;  by  his  dress  he 
was  seen  to  be  one  of  the  anchorites  of  Sinai,  for  he  wore  noth- 
ing but  a  shirt-shaped  garment  of  coarse  linen,  which  he 
seemed  to  have  outgrown,  and  raw  leather  sandals,  which  were 
tied  on  to  his  feet  with  fibrous  palm  bast. 

No  slave  could  be  more  poorly  clothed  by  his  owner,  and  yet 
no  oue  would  have  taken  him  for  a  bondman,  for  he  walked 


HDMO   SUM.  13 

erect  and  self-possessed.  He  could  not  be  more  than  twenty 
years  of  age;  that  was  evident  in  the  young  soft  hair  on  his 
upper  lip,  chin,  and  cheeks;  but  in  his  large  blue  eyes  there 
shone  no  light  of  youth,  only  discontent,  and  his  lips  were 
firmly  closed  as  if  in  defiance. 

He  now  stood  still,  and  pushed  back  from  his  forehead  the 
superabundant  and  unkempt  brown  hair  that  flowed  round  hif 
head  like  a  lion's  mane;  then  he  approached  the  well,  and  af 
he  stooped  to  draw  the  water  in  the  large  dried  gourd  shell 
which  he  held,  he  observed  first  that  the  spring  was  muddy, 
and  then  perceived  the  goats,  and  at  last  their  sleeping  mis- 
tress. 

He  impatiently  set  down  the  vessel  and  called  the  girl  loud- 
ly, but  she  did  not  move  till  he  touched  her  somewhat  roughly 
with  his  foot.  Then  she  sprung  up  as  if  stung  by  an  asp,  and 
two  eyes  as  black  as  night  flashed  at  him  out  of  her  dark  young 
face;  the  delicate  nostrUs  of  her  aquiline  nose  quivered,  and 
her  white  teeth  gleamed  as  she  cried: 

"  Am  I  a  dog  that  you  wake  me  in  this  fashion?" 

He  colored,  pointed  sullenly  to  the  well  and  said,  sharply: 
"  Your  cattle  have  troubled  the  water  again;  I  shall  have  to 
wait  here  till  it  is  clear  and  I  can  draw  some. " 

"  The  day  is  long,"  answered  the  shepherdess;  and  while  she 
rose  she  pushed,  as  if  by  chance,  another  stone  into  the  water. 

Her  triumphant,  flashing  glance  as  she  looked  down  into  the 
troubled  spnng  did  not  escape  the  young  man,  and  he  ex- 
claimed, angrily: 

"He  is  right!  You  are  a  venomous  snake — a  demon  of 
hell." 

She  raised  herself  and  made  a  face  at  him,  as  if  she  wished 
to  show  him  that  she  really  was  some  horrible  fiend;  the  im- 
usual  sharpness  of  her  mobile  and  youthful  features  gave  her  a 
particular  faciUty  for  doing  so.  And  she  fully  attained  her 
end,  for  he  drew  back  with  a  look  of  horror,  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  repel  her,  and  exclaimed,  as  he  saw  her  uncontrollable 
laughter: 

'•Back,  demon,  back!  In  the  name  of  the  Lord!  I  ask 
thee,  who  art  thou?" 

"I  am  Miriam — who  else  should  I  be?"  she  answered, 
haughtily. 

He  had  expected  a  different  reply;  her  vivacity  annoyed  him, 
and  he  said,  angrily:  "  Whatever  your  name  is  you  are  a  fiend, 
and  I  will  ask  Paulus  to  forbid  you  to  water  your  beasts  at  our 
well." 

"  You  might  run  to  your  nurse,  and  complain  of  me  to  hor 


14  HOMO    SUM. 

if  you  had  one,"  she  answered,  pouting  her  lips  contemptu- 
ously at  him. 

He  colored;  she  went  on  boldly,  and  with  «ager  play  of 
gesture. 

"  You  ought  to  be  a  man,  for  you  are  strong  and  big,  but 
you  let  yourself  to  be  kept  like  a  child  or  a  miserable  girl; 
your  only  business  is  to  hunt  for  roots  and  berries,  and  fetch 
water  in  that  wretched  thing  there.  I  have  learned  to  do  that 
ever  since  I  was  as  big  as  that!"  and  she  indicated  a  contempti- 
bly little  measure,  with  the  outstretched  pointed  fingers  of  her 
two  hands,  which  were  not  less  expressively  mobile  than  her 
features.  "Phoh!  you  are  stronger  and  taller  than  all  the 
Amalekite  lads  down  there,  but  you  never  try  to  measure 
yourself  with  them  in  shooting  with  a  bow  and  arrows  or  in 
throwing  a  spear!" 

"  If  I  only  dared  as  much  as  I  wish!"  he  interrupted,  and 
flaming  scarlet  mounted  to  his  face,  "  I  would  be  a  match  for 
ten  of  those  lean  rascals." 

"  I  believe  you,"  replied  the  girl,  and  her  eager  glance  meas- 
ured the  youth's  broad  breast  and  muscular  arms  with  an  ex- 
pression of  pride.  "  I  believe  you,  but  why  do  you  not  dare! 
Are  you  the  slave  of  that  man  up  there?" 

"He  is  my  father,  and  besides — " 

"  What  besides?"  she  cried,  waving  her  hand  as  if  to  wave 
away  a  bat.  "If  no  bird  ever  flew  away  from  the  nest  there 
would  be  a  pretty  swarm  in  it.  Look  at  my  kids  there — as 
long  as  they  need  their  mother  they  run  about  after  her,  but 
as  soon  as  they  can  find  their  food  alone  they  seek  it  wherever 
they  can  find  it,  and  I  can  tell  you  the  yearlings  there  have 
quite  forgotten  whether  they  sucked  the  yellow  dam  or  the 
brown  one.  And  what  great  things  does  your  father  do  for 
you?" 

"  Silence!"  interrupted  the  youth,  with  excited  indignation. 
"  The  Evil  One  speaks  through  thee.  Get  thee  from  me,  for  I 
dare  not  hear  that  which  I  dare  not  utter. " 

"  Dare,  dare,  dare!"  she  sneered.  "What  do  you  dare, 
then?  not  even  to  listen!" 

"  At  any  rate  not  to  what  you  have  to  say,  you  goblin!"  he 
exclaimed,  vehemently.  "  Your  voice  is  hateful  to  me,  and 
if  I  meet  you  again  by  the  well  I  will  drive  you  away  with 
stones." 

While  he  spoke  thus  she  stared  speechless  at  him,  the  blood 
had  left  her  lips,  and  she  clinched  her  small  hands.  He  was 
about  to  pass  her  to  ft^tch  some  water,  but  she  stepped  into  his 
path,  and  held  him  spell -bound  witli  the  fixed  gaze  of  her  eyes. 


HOMO    SUM.  15 

A  cold  chill  ran  through  him  when  she  asked  him,  with  trem- 
bling lips  and  a  smothered  voice:  "  What  harm  have  I  done 
you?" 

"  Leave  me!"  said  he,  and  he  raised  his  hand  to  push  her 
away  from  the  water. 

* '  You  shall  not  touch  me, ' '  she  cried,  beside  herself.  ' '  What 
harm  have  I  done  you?" 

"  You  know  nothing  of  God,"  he  answered,  "  and  he  who 
is  not  of  God  is  of  the  devil.'* 

"  You  do  not  say  that  of  yourseK,"  answered  she,  and  her 
voice  recovered  its  tone  of  light  mockery.  "  What  they  let 
you  believe  pulls  the  wires  of  your  tongue  just  as  a  hand  pulls 
the  strings  of  a  puppet.     Who  told  you  that  I  was  of  the 

"  Why  should  I  conceal  it  from  you?"  he  answered,  proud- 
ly. "  Our  pious  Paul  us  warned  me  against  you,  and  I  will 
thank  him  for  it.  '  The  Evil  One,'  he  says, '  looks  out  of  youi 
eyes,'  and  he  is  right,  a  thousand  times  right.  When  you 
look  at  me  I  feel  as  if  I  could  tread  everything  that  is  holy 
imder  foot;  only  last  night  again  I  dreamed  I  was  whirling  in 
a  dance  with  you — " 

At  these  words  all  gravity  and  spite  vanished  from  Miriam's 
eyes;  she  clapped  her  hands  and  cried:  "If  it  had  only  been 
the  fact  and  not  a  dream !  Only  do  not  be  frightened  again, 
you  fool!  Do  you  know,  then,  what  it  is  when  the  pipes  sound, 
and  the  lutes  tinkle,  and  our  feet  fly  round  in  circles  as  if  they 
had  wings?" 

"  The  wings  of  Satan,"  Hermas  interrupted,  sternly.  "  You 
are  a  demon,  a  hardened  heathen." 

"  So  says  our  pious  Paulus,"  laughed  the  girl. 

"  So  say  I  too,"  cried  the  young  man.  "  Who  ever  saw 
you  in  the  assembhes  of  the  just?  Do  you  pray?  Do  you  ever 
praise  the  Lord  and  our  Saviour?" 

"  And  what  should  I  praise  them  for?"  asked  Miriam. 
"  Because  I  am  regarded  as  a  foul  fiend  by  the  most  pious 
among  you,  perhaps?" 

"  But  it  is  because  you  are  a  sinner  that  Heaven  denies  you 
its  blessing." 

"  No— no,  a  thousand  times  no/"  cried  Miriam.  "  No  god 
has  ever  troubled  himself  about  me.  And  if  I  am  not  good, 
why  should  I  be  when  nothing  but  evil  ever  has  fallen  to  my 
share?  Do  you  know  who  I  am  and  how  I  became  so?  I  was 
wicked,  perhaps,  when  both  my  parents  were  slain  in  their  pil- 
grimage hither?  Why,  I  was  then  no  more  than  six  years  old, 
and  what  is  a  child  of  that  age!    But  I  still  very  well  remem- 


18  HOMO    SUM. 

ber  that  there  were  many  camels  grazing  near  our  house,  and 
horses,  too,  that  belonged  to  us,  and  that  on  a  hand  that  often 
caressed  me — it  was  my  mother's  hand — a  large  jewel  shone. 
I  had  a  black  slave,  too,  that  obeyed  me;  when  she  and  I  did 
not  agree  I  used  to  hang  on  to  her  gray  woolly  hair  and  beat 
her.  Who  knows  what  may  have  become  of  her?  I  did  not 
love  her,  but  if  I  had  her  now,  how  kind  I  would  be  to  her. 
And  now  for  twelve  years  I  myself  have  eaten  the  bread  or 
servitude,  and  have  kept  Senator  Petrus's  goats,  and  if  I  vent- 
ured to  show  myself  at  a  festival  among  the  free  maidens,  they 
would  turn  me  out  and  pull  the  wreath  out  of  my  hair.  And 
am  I  to  be  thankful?  What  for,  I  wonder?  And  pious? 
What  god  has  taken  any  care  of  me?  Call  me  an  evil  demon 
— call  me  so!  But  if  Petrus  and  your  Paulus  there  say  that 
He  who  is  up  above  us  and  who  let  me  grow  up  to  such  a  lot 
is  good,  they  tell  a  lie.  God  is  cruel,  and  it  is  just  like  Him 
to  put  it  into  your  heart  to  throw  stones  and  scare  me  away 
from  your  well." 

With  these  words  she  burst  out  into  bitter  sobs,  and  her 
features  worked  with  various  and  passionate  distortion. 

Hermas  felt  compassion  for  the  weeping  Miriam.  He  had 
met  her  a  hundred  times  and  she  had  shown  herself  now 
haughty,  now  discontented,  now  exacting,  and  now  wrathful, 
but  never  before  soft  or  sad.  To-day,  for  the  first  time,  she 
had  opened  her  heart  to  him ;  the  tears  which  disfigured  her 
countenance  gave  her  character  a  value  which  it  had  never  be- 
fore had  in  his  eyes,  and  when  he  saw  her  weak  and  unhappy 
he  felt  ashamed  of  his  hardness.  He  went  up  to  her  kindly 
and  said: 

"  You  need  not  cry;  come  to  the  well  again  always,  I  will 
not  prevent  you. " 

His  deep  voice  sounded  soft  and  kind  as  he  spoke,  but  she 
sobbed  more  passionately  than  before,  almost  convulsively,  and 
she  ';ried  to  speak  but  she  could  not.  Trembling  in  every 
slender  limb,  shaken  with  grief,  and  overwhelmed  with  sor- 
,row,  the  slight  shepherdess  stood  before  him,  and  he  felt  as  if 
he  must  help  her.  His  passionate  pity  cut  him  to  the  heart 
and  fettered  his  by  no  means  ready  tongue. 

As  he  could  find  no  word  of  comfort,  he  took  the  water- 
gourd  in  his  left  hand  and  laid  his  right,  in  which  he  had 
hitherto  held  it,  gently  on  her  shoulder.  She  started,  but 
she  let  him  do  it;  he  felt  her  warm  breath;  he  would  have 
drawn  back,  but  he  felt  as  if  he  could  not;  he  hardly  knew 
whether  she  were  crying  or  laughing  while  she  let  his  hand  res4 
on  her  black  waving  hair. 


HOMO   SUM.  17 

She  did  not  more.  At  last  she  raised  her  head,  her  eyes 
flashed  into  his,  and  at  the  same  instant  he  felt  two  slender 
arms  clasped  round  his  neck.  He  felt  as  if  a  sea  were  roaring 
in  liis  ears,  and  fire  blazing  in  his  eyes.  A  nameless  anguish 
seized  him;  he  tore  himself  violently  free,  and  with  a  loud  cry, 
as  if  all  the  spirits  of  hell  were  after  him,  he  fled  up  the, steps 
that  led  from  the  well,  and  heeded  not  that  his  water-jar  was 
shattered  into  a  thousand  pieces  against  the  rocky  wall. 

She  stood  looking  after  him  as  if  spell-bound.  Then  she 
struck  her  slender  hand  against  her  forehead,  threw  herself 
down  by  the  spring  again  and  stared  into  space;  there  she  lay 
motionless,  only  her  mouth  continued  to  twitcL 

When  the  shadow  of  the  palm-tree  grew  longer  she  sprung 
up,  called  her  goats  and  looked  up,  listening,  to  the  rock-steps 
by  which  he  had  vanished;  the  twilight  is  short  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  tropics,  and  she  knew  that  she  would  be  over- 
taken by  the  darkness  on  the  stony  and  fissured  road  down  the 
valley  if  she  lingered  any  longer.  She  feared  the  terrors  of 
the  night,  the  spirits  and  demons,  and  a  thousand  vague  dan- 
gers whose  nature  she  could  not  have  explained  even  to  herself; 
and  yet  she  did  not  stir  from  the  spot  nor  cease  listening  and 
waiting  for  his  return  till  the  sun  had  disappeared  behind  the 
sacred  mountain,  and  the  glow  in  the  west  had  paled. 

All  around  was  as  still  as  death;  she  could  hear  herself 
breathe,  and  as  the  evening  chill  fell  she  shuddered  with  cold. 

She  now  heard  a  loud  noise  above  her  head.  A  flock  of 
wild  mountain  goats,  accustomed  to  come  at  this  hour  to 
quench  their  thirst  at  the  spring,  came  nearer  and  nearer,  but 
drew  back  as  they  detected  the  presence  of  a  human  being. 
Only  the  leader  of  the  herd  remained  standing  on  the  brink  of 
the  ravine,  and  she  knew  that  he  was  only  awaiting  her  depart- 
ure to  lead  the  others  down  to  drink.  Following  a  kindly  im- 
pulse, she  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  to  make  way  for  the 
animals,  when  she  suddenly  recollected  Herpias's  threat  to 
drive  her  from  the  well,  and  she  angrily  picked  up  a  stone  and 
flung  it  at  the  buck,  which  started  and  hastily  fled.  The  whole 
herd  followed  him.  Miriam  listened  to  them  as  they  scuttered 
away,  and  then,  with  her  head  sunk,  she  led  her  flock  home, 
feeling  her  way  in  the  darkness  with  her  bare  feet. 


CHAPTER   n. 

High  above  the  ravine  where  the  spring  was  lay  a  level 
plateau  of  moderate  extent,  and  behind  it  rose  a  fissured  cliff 
of  bare,  red-brown  porphyry.     A  vein  of  diorite  of  iron  hard- 


18  HOMO  smr. 

ness  lay  at  its  foot  like  a  green  ribbon,  and  below  this  there 
opened  a  small  round  cavern,  hollowed  and  arched  by  the  cun- 
ning hand  of  nature.  In  former  times  wild  beasts,  panthers 
or  wolves,  had  made  it  their  home;  it  now  served  as  a  dwelling 
for  young  Hernias  and  his  father. 

Many  similar  caves  were  to  be  found  in  the  holy  mountain,* 
and  other  anchorites  had  taken  possession  of  the  larger  onea 
among  them. 

That  of  Stephanus  was  exceptionally  high  and  deep,  and  yet 
the  space  was  but  small  which  divided  the  two  beds  of  dried 
mountain  herbs  where,  on  one,  slept  the  father,  and  on  the 
other  the  son. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  but  neither  the  younger  nor  the 
elder  cave-dweller  seemed  to  be  sleeping.  Hermas  groaned 
aloud  and  threw  himself  vehemently  from  one  side  to  the  other 
without  any  consideration  for  the  old  man  who,  tormented 
with  pain  and  weakness,  sorely  needed  sleep.  Stephanus  mean- 
while denied  himself  the  relief  of  turning  over  or  of  sighing, 
wheu  he  thought  he  perceived  that  his  more  vigorous  son  had 
found  rest. 

"  What  could  have  robbed  him  of  his  rest,  the  boy  who 
usually  slept  so  soundly,  and  was  so  hard  to  waken?" 

"  Whence  comes  it,'*  thought  Shephanus,  "  that  the  young 
and  strong  sleep  so  soundly  and  so  much,  and  the  old,  who 
need  rest,  and  even  the  sick,  sleep  so  lightly  and  so  little?  Is 
it  that  wakefulness  may  prolong  the  little  term  of  life,  of 
which  they  dread  the  end?  How  is  it  that  man  clings  so 
fondly  to  this  miserable  existence,  and  would  fain  slink  away, 
and  hide  himself  when  the  angel  calls  and  the  golden  gates 
open  before  him?  We  are  like  Saul,  the  Hebrew,  who  hid  him- 
self when  they  came  to  him  with  the  crown!  My  wound  burns 
painfully;  if  I  only  had  a  drink  of  water.  If  the  poor  child 
were  not  so  sound  asleep  I  might  ask  him  for  the  jar. " 

Stephanus  hsteued  to  his  son  and  would  not  wake  him  when 
ho  heard  his  heavy  and  regular  breathing.  He  curled  himself 
up  shivering  under  the  sheep-skin  which  covered  only  half  his 
body,  for  the  icy  night-wind  now  blew  through  the  opening  of 
the  cave,  which  by  day  was  as  hot  as  an  oven. 

Some  long  minutes  wore  away;  at  last  he  thought  he  per- 
ceived that  Hermas  had  raised  himself.  Yes,  the  sleeper  must 
have  wakened,  for  he  began  to  speak  and  to  call  on  the  name 
of  God. 

The  old  man  turned  to  his  son  and  began,  softly:  "  Do  yoa 
hear  me,  my  boy?" 

*'  I  can  not  sleep,"  answered  the  youth. 


fiOMO    SUM.  19 

"Then  t^*e  me  something  to  drink,"  asked  Stephanos, 
**  my  wound  Ourns  intolerably. " 

Uermas  rose  at  once,  and  reached  the  water-jar  to  the  suf- 
ferer. 

"  Thanks,  thanks,  my  child,"  said  the  old  man,  feeling  for 
the  neck  of  the  jar.  But  he  could  not  find  it,  and  exclaimed, 
with  surprise: 

"  How  damp  and  cold  it  is — this  is  clay,  and  our  jar  was  a 
gourd." 

"  I  have  broken  it,"  interrupted  Hermas,  "  and  Paulus  lent 
me  his. " 

"  Well,  wf  11,"  said  Stephanus,  anxious  for  drink;  he  gave 
the  jar  back  to  his  son,  and  waited  till  he  had  stretched  himself 
again  on  his  couch.     Then  he  asked,  anxiously: 

"  You  wftre  out  a  long  time  this  evening,  the  gourd  is 
broken,  and  you  groaned  in  your  sleep.    Whom  did  you  meet?" 

"  A  demon  of  hell,"  answerd  Hermas.  "  And  now  the 
fiend  pursues  me  into  our  cave,  and  torments  me  in  a  variety 
of  shapes. ' ' 

"  Drive  it  out  then,  and  pray,"  said  the  old  man,  gravely. 
"  TJncleai>  spirits  flee  at  the  name  of  God." 

"  I  h&vc  called  upon  Him,"  sighed  Hermas,  "  but  in  vain; 
I  see  women  with  ruddy  lips  and  flowing  hair,  and  white  mar- 
ble figures  with  rounded  limbs  and  flasmng  eyes  beckon  to  me 
again  and  again. " 

"  Then  take  the  scourge,"  ordered  the  father,  "  and  so  win 
peace." 

Hermas  once  more  obediently  rose,  and  went  out  into  the 
air  with  the  scourge:  the  narrow  limits  of  the  cave  did  not 
admit  of  his  swinging  it  with  all  the  strength  of  his  arms. 

Very  soon  Stephanus  heard  the  whistle  of  the  leathern 
thongs  through  the  stillness  of  the  night,  their  hard  blows  on 
the  springy  muscles  of  the  man,  aid  his  son's  painful  groan- 
ing. 

At  each  blow  the  old  man  shrunk  as  if  it  had  fallen  on  him- 
self. At  last  he  cried,  as  loud  as  he  was  able:  "  Enough — thai 
is  enough." 

Hermas  came  back  into  the  cave,  his  father  called  him  to 
his  couch,  and  desired  him  to  join  with  him  m  prayer. 

After  the  "  Amen  "  he  stroked  the  lad's  abundant  hair  and 
said:  "  Since  you  went  to  Alexandria  you  have  been  quite 
another  being.  I  would  I  had  withstood  Bishop  Agapitus, 
and  forbidden  you  the  journey.  Soon,  I  know,  my  Saviour 
will  call  me  to  Himself,  and  no  one  will  keep  you  here;  then 
the  tempter  wHl  come  to  you,  and  all  the  splendors  of  the  great 


20  HOMO    SUV. 

city,  which  after  all  only  shine  like  rotten  wood,  like  shining 
snakes  and  poisonous  purple  berries — " 

"  I  do  not  care  for  them,''  interrupted  Hermas;  "  the  noisy 
place  bewildered  and  frightened  me.  Never,  never  will  I 
tread  the  spot  again." 

"  So  you  have  always  said,"  replied  Stephanas,  '*  and  yet 
the  journey  quite  altered  you.  How  often  before  that  I  used 
to  think  when  I  heard  you  laugh  that  the  sound  must  surely 

{)lease  our  Father  in  Heaven.  And  now?  You  used  to  be 
ike  a  singing  bird,  and  now  you  go  about  silent,  you  look  sour 
and  morose,  and  evil  thoughts  trouble  your  sleep." 

"  That  is  my  loss,"  answered  Hermas.  "  I*ray  let  go  of 
my  hand;  the  night  will  soon  be  past,  and  you  have  the  whole 
livelong  day  to  lecture  me  in." 

Stephanus  sighed,  and  Hermas  returned  to  his  couch. 

Sleep  avoided  them  both,  and  each  knew  that  the  other  was 
awake,  and  would  willingly  have  spoken  to  him,  but  dissatis- 
faction and  defiance  closed  the  son's  lips,  and  the  father  was 
silent  because  he  could  not  find  exactly  the  heart-searching 
words  that  he  was  seeking. 

At  last  it  was  morning,  a  twilight  glimmer  struck  through 
the  opening  of  the  cave,  and  it  grew  lighter  and  lighter  in  the 
gloomy  vault;  the  boy  awoke  and  rose  yawning.  When  he 
saw  his  father  lying  with  his  eyes  open,  he  asked,  indifferently: 
*'  Shall  I  stay  here  or  go  to  morning  worship?" 

"  Let  us  pray  here  together,"  begged  the  father.  "  Who 
knows  how  long  it  may  yet  be  granted  to  us  to  do  so.  I  am 
not  far  from  the  day  that  no  evening  ever  closes.  Kneel  down 
here,  and  let  me  kiss  the  image  of  the  Crucified." 

Hermas  did  as  his  father  desired  him,  and  as  they  were  end- 
ing their  song  of  praise,  a  third  voice  joined  in  the  "  Amen. " 

"  Paulus!"  cried  the  old  man.  "  The  Lord  be  praised!  pray 
look  to  my  wound  then.  The  arrow-head  seeks  to  work  some 
way  ci.t,  and  it  burns  fearfully." 

The  new-comer,  an  anchorite,  who  for  all  clothing  wore  a 
shirt-shaped  coat  of  brown  undress  linen,  and  a  sheep-skin,  ex- 
jimined  the  wound  carefully,  and  laid  some  herbs  on  it,  mur- 
muring meanwhile  some  pious  texts. 

"  That  is  much  easier,"  sighed  the  old  man.  "  The  Lord 
has  mercy  on  me  for  your  goodness'  sake. " 

"  My  goodness?  I  am  a  vessel  of  wrath,"  replied  Paulus, 
with  a  deep,  rich,  sonorous  voice,  and  his  peculiarly  kind  blue 
eyes  were  raised  to  heaven  as  if  to  attest  how  greatly  men  were 
dtjceived  in  him.     Then  he  pushed  the  budiy  grizzled  hair. 


HOMO    SUM.  21 

^hidi  hung  in  disorder  over  his  neck  and  face,  out  of  his  eyes, 
and  said,  cheerfully: 

"  No  man  is  more  than  man,  and  many  men  are  less.  In 
the  ark  there  were  many  beasts,  but  only  one  Noah. " 

"  You  are  the  Noah  of  our  little  ark,"  replied  Stephanus. 

"  Then  this  great  lout  here  is  the  elephant,"  laughed  Paulus. 

"  You  are  no  smaller  than  he,"  replied  Stephanus. 

"It  is  a  pity  this  stone  roof  is  so  low,  else  we  might  have 
measured  ourselves,"  said  Paulus.  "Ay!  if  Hermas  and  I 
were  as  pious  and  pure  as  we  are  tall  and  strong,  we  should 
both  have  the  key  of  Paradise  in  our  pockets.  You  were 
scourging  yourself  this  night,  boy;  I  heard  the  blows.  It  is 
well;  if  the  sinful  flesh  revolts,  thus  we  may  subdue  it." 

"  He  groaned  heavily  and  could  not  sleep,"  said  Stephanus. 

"Ay,  did  he  indeed!"  cried  Paulus  to  the  youth,  and  held 
his  powerful  arms  out  toward  him  with  chnched  fists;  but  tlu 
threatening  voice  was  loud  rather  than  terrible,  and  wild  as  the 
exceptionally  big  man  looked  in  his  sheep-skin,  there  was  such 
irresistible  kindliness  in  his  gaze  and  in  his  voice  that  no  one 
could  have  believed  that  his  wrath  was  in  earnest. 

"  Friends  of  hell  had  met  him,"  said  Stephanus,  in  excuse 
for  his  son,  "  and  I  should  not  have  closed  an  eye  even  with- 
out his  groaning;  it  is  the  fifth  night. " 

"  But  in  the  sixth,"  said  Paulus,  "  sleep  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary. Put  on  your  sheep-skin,  Hermas;  you  must  go  down  to 
the  oasis  to  the  senator  Petrus,  and  fetch  a  good  sleeping- 
draught  for  our  sick  man  from  him  or  from  Dame  Dorothea, 
the  deaconess.  Just  look!  the  youngster  has  really  thought 
of  his  father's  breakfast — one's  own  stomach  is  a  good  re- 
minder. Only  put  the  bread  and  the  water  down  here  by  the 
couch;  while  you  are  gone  I  will  fetch  some  fresh — now,  come 
with  me. " 

"  Wait  a  minute,  wait,"  cried  Stephanus.  "  Bring  a  new 
jar  with  you  from  the  town,  my  son.  You  lent  us  yours  yes- 
terday, Paulus,  and  I  must — " 

"  I  should  soon  have  forgotten  it,"  interrupted  the  other. 
"  I  have  to  thank  the  careless  fellow,  for  I  have  now  for  the 
first  time  discovered  the  right  way  to  drink,  as  long  as  one  is 
well  and  able.  I  would  not  have  the  jar  back  for  a  measure 
of  gold;  water  has  no  relish  unless  you  drink  it  out  of  the  hol- 
low of  your  hand!  The  shard  is  yours.  I  should  be  warring 
against  my  own  welfare  if  I  required  it  back.  God  be  praisedJ 
the  craftiest  thief  can  now  rob  me  of  nothing  save  my  sheep- 


92  HOMO     SUM. 

Stephanus  would  have  thanked  him,  but  he  took  Hennas  by 
the  hand,  and  led  him  out  into  the  open. 

For  some  time  the  two  men  walked  in  silence  over  the  clefts 
and  bowlders  up  the  mountain  side.  When  they  had  reached 
a  plateau,  which  |ay  on  the  road  that  led  from  the  sea  over  the 
mountain  into  the  oasis,  he  turned  to  the  youth,  and  said: 

"  If  we  always  considered  all  the  results  of  our  actions  there 
wou)d  be  no  sins  committed.'* 

Hermas  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  Paulus  went  on: 

"If  it  had  occurred  to  you  to  think  how  sorely  your  poor 
father  needed  sleep,  you  would  have  lain  still  this  night." 

"  I  could  not,"  said  the  youth  sullenly.  "  And  you  know 
very  well  that  I  scourg3d  myself  hardly  enough^' 

"  That  was  quite  right,  for  you  deserved  a  flogging  for  a 
misconducted  boy." 

Hermas  looked  defiantly  at  his  reproving  friend,  the  flaming 
color  mounting  to  his  cheek,  for  he  remembered  the  shepherd- 
ess's words  that  he  might  go  and  complain  to  his  nurse,  and 
he  cried  out  angrily: 

"  I  will  not  let  any  one  speak  to  me  so;  I  am  no  longer  a 
child." 

"  Not  even  your  father's?"  asked  Paulus,  and  he  looked  at 
the  boy  with  such  an  astonished  and  inquiring  air  that  Hermas 
turned  away  his  eyes  in  confusion. 

"  It  is  not  right,  at  any  rate,  to  trouble  the  last  remnant  of 
life  of  that  very  man  who  longs  to  live  for  your  sake  only. " 

"  I  should  have  been  very  willing  to  lie  still,  for  I  love  my 
father  as  well  as  any  one  else." 

*'  You  do  not  beat  him,"  rephed  Paulus,  "you  carry  him 
bread  and  water,  and  do  not  drink  up  the  wine  yourself  which 
the  bishop  sends  him  home  for  the  Lord's  Supper;  that  is 
something  certainly,  but  not  enough  by  a  long  way. " 

"  I  am  no  saint!" 

"  Nor  I  neither,"  exclaimed  Paulus;  "  I  am  full  of  sin  and 
weakness.  But  I  know  what  the  love  is  which  is  taught  us  by 
the  Saviour,  and  that  you,  too,  may  know.  He  suffered  on  the 
cross  for  you  and  for  me,  and  for  all  the  poor  and  the  vile. 
Love  is  at  once  the  easiest  and  the  most  difficult  of  attain- 
ments. It  requires  sacrifice.  And  you?  How  long  is  it  now 
since  you  last  showed  your  father  a  cheerful  countenance?" 

"  I  can  not  be  a  hypocrite."  "~ 

"  Nor  need  you,  but  you  must  love.  Certainly  it  is  not  by 
what  his  hand  does  but  by  what  his  heart  cheerfully  offers, 
and  by  what  he  forces  himself  to  give  up  that  a  man  proves 
his  love." 


HOMO    SUM.  23 

**  And  is  it  no  sacrifice  that  I  waste  all  my  youth  here?" 
asked  the  boy. 

Paulus  stepped  back  from  him  a  little  way,  shook  his  matted 
head,  and  said:  "  Is  that  it?  You  are  thinking  of  Alexandria! 
Ay!  no  doubt  Ufe  runs  away  much  quicker  there  than  on  our 
solitary  mountain.  You  do  not  fancy  the  tawny  shepherd  girl, 
but  perhaps  some  pretty  pink  and  white  Greek  maiden  down 
there  has  looked  into  your  eyes?'* 

"  Let  me  alone  about  the  women,'*  answered  Hermas,  with 
genuine  annoyance.  "  There  are  other  things  to  look  at 
there." 

The  youth's  eyes  sparkled  as  he  spoke,  and  Paulus  asked, 
not  without  interest:  "  Indeed?" 

"  You  know  Alexandria  better  than  1,"  answered  Hermas, 
evasively.  "  You  were  bom  there,  and  they  say  you  had  been 
a  rich  young  man." 

"  Do  they  saj  so?"  said  Paulus.  "  Perhaps  they  are  right; 
but  you  must  know  that  I  am  glad  that  nothing  any  longer 
belongs  to  me  of  all  the  vanities  that  I  possessed,  and  I  thank 
my  Saviour  that  I  can  now  turn  my  back  on  the  turmoil  of 
men.  What  was  it  that  seemed  to  you  so  particularly  tempt- 
ing in  all  that  whirl?" 

Hermas  hesitated.  He  feared  to  speak,  and  yet  something 
urged  and  drove  him  to  say  out  all  that  was  stirring  his  soul. 
If  any  one  of  all  those  grave  men  who  despised  the  world  and 
among  whom  he  had  grown  up,  could  ever  understand  him, 
he  knew  well  that  it  would  be  Paulus;  Paulus  whose  rough 
beard  he  had  pulled  when  he  was  little,  on  whose  shoulders  he 
had  often  sat,  and  who  had  proved  to  him  a  thousand  times 
how  truly  he  loved  him.  It  is  true  the  Alexandrian  was  the 
severest  of  them  all,  but  he  was  harsh  only  to  himself.  Her- 
mas must  once  for  all  unburden  his  heart,  and  with  sudden  de- 
cision he  asked  the  anchorite: 

"  Did  you  often  visit  the  baths?" 

"Often?  I  only  wonder  that  I  did  not  melt  away  and  fall 
to  pieces  in  the  warm  water  like  a  wheaten  loaf." 

*  Why  do  you  laugll  at  that  which  makes  men  beautiful?" 
cried  Hermas,  hastily.  "  Why  may  Christians  even  visit  the 
baths  in  Alexandria,  while  we  up  here,  you  and  my  father  and 
all  anchorites,  only  use  water  to  quench  our  thirst.  You  com- 
pel me  to  live  like  one  of  you,  and  I  do  uot  like  being  a  dirty 
beast." 

"  None  can  see  us  but  the  Most  High,"  answered  Paulus, 
'  and  for  Him  we  cleanse  and  beautify  our  souls." 

"  But  the  Lord  gave  us  our  body  too,"  interrupted  Hermas 


24  HOMO   SUM. 

"  It  is  written  that  man  is  the  image  of  God.  And  we  I  I  ap« 
peared  to  myself  as  repulsive  as  a  hideous  ape  when  at  the 
great  baths  by  the  Gate  of  the  Sun  I  saw  the  youths  and  men 
with  beautifully  arranged  and  scented  hair  and  smooth  limbs 
that  shone  with  cleanliness  and  purification.  And  as  they  went 
past,  and  I  looked  at  my  mangy  sheep-fell,  and  thought  of  my 
wild  mane  and  my  arms  and  feet,  which  are  no  worse  formed 
or  weaker  than  theirs  were,  I  turned  hot  and  cold,  and  I  felt 
as  if  some  bitter  drink  were  choking  me.  I  should  have  liked 
to  howl  out  with  shame  and  envy  and  vexation.  I  will  not  be 
like  a  monster!" 

Hermas  ground  his  teeth  as  he  spoke  the  last  words,  and 
Paulus  looked  uneasily  at  him  as  he  went  on: 

"  My  body  is  God's  as  much  as  my  soul  is,  and  what  is 
allowed  to  the  Christians  in  the  city — " 

"  That  we  nevertheless  may  not  do,"  Paulus  interrupted 
gravely.  "  He  who  has  once  devoted  himself  to  Heaven  must 
detach  himself  wholly  from  the  charm  of  life,  and  break  one 
tie  after  another  that  binds  him  to  the  dust.  I,  too,  once  upon 
a  time  have  anointed  this  body,  and  smoothed  this  rough  hair, 
and  rejoiced  sincerely  over  my  mirror;  but  I  say  to  you, 
Hermas — and,  by  my  dear  Saviour,  I  say  it  only  because  I  feel 
it,  deep  in  my  heart  I  feel  it — to  pray  is  better  than  to  bathe, 
and  I,  poor  wretch,  have  been  favored  with  hours  in  which  my 
spirit  has  struggled  free,  and  has  been  permitted  to  share  as  an 
honored  guest  in  the  festal  joys  of  heaven!" 

While  he  spoke  his  wide  open  eyes  had  turned  toward  heaven 
and  had  acquired  a  wondrous  brightness. 

For  a  short  time  the  two  stood  opposite  each  other  silent  and 
motiof^less;  at  last  the  anchorite  pushed  the  hair  from  off  his 
brow^  which  was  now  for  the  first  time  visible.  It  was  well- 
formed,  though  somewhat  narrow,  and  its  clear  fairness  formed 
a  sharp  contrast  to  his  sunburned  face. 

"  Boy,"  he  said  with  a  deep  breath,  "  you  know  not  what 
joys  you  would  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  worthless  things.  Long 
,ere  the  Lord  calls  the  pious  man  to  heaven,  the  pious  has 
brought  heaven  down  to  earth  in  himself." 

Hermas  well  understood  what  the  anchorite  meant,  for  his 
father  often  for  hours  at  a  time  gazed  up  into  heaven  in  prayer, 
neither  seeing  nor  hearing  what  was  going  on  around  him,  and 
was  wont  to  relate  to  his  son,  when  ho  awoke  from  his  ecstatic 
vision,  that  he  had  seen  the  Lord  or  heard  the  angel  choir. 

He  himself  had  never  succeeded  in  bringing  himself  into 
Buch  a  state,  although  Stephanus  had  often  compelled  him  to 
remain  on  his  knees  praying  with  him  for  many  interminable 


HOMO   SUM.  25 

hours.  It  often  happened  that  the  old  man's  feeble  flame  of 
life  had  threatened  to  become  altogether  extinct  after  these 
deeply  sonl-stirring  exercises,  and  Hermas  would  gladly  hare 
forbidden  him  giving  himself  up  to  such  hurtful  emotions,  for 
he  loved  his  father;  but  they  were  looked  upon  as  special 
manifestations  of  grace,  and  how  should  a  son  dare  to  express 
his  aversion  to  such  peculiarly  sacred  acts?  But  to  Paulus,  and 
in  his  present  mood,  he  found  courage  to  speak  out. 

*'I  have  sure  hope  of  Paradise,"  he  said,  "  but  it  will  be 
first  opened  to  us  after  death.  The  Christian  should  be 
patient;  why  can  you  not  wait  for  heaven  till  the  Saviour  calls 

?ou,  instead  of  desiring  to  enjoy  its  pleasures  here  on  earth? 
'his  first  and  that  after!  Why  should  God  have  bestowed  on 
us  the  gifts  of  the  flesh  if  not  that  we  may  use  them?  Beauty 
and  strength  are  not  empty  trifles,  and  none  but  a  fool  gives 
noble  gifts  to  another  only  in  order  to  throw  them  away. " 

Paulus  gazed  in  astonishment  at  the  youth,  who  up  to  this 
moment  had  always  unresistingly  obeyed  his  father  and  him, 
and  he  shook  his  head  as  he  answered: 

"  So  think  the  children  of  this  world  who  stand  far  from 
the  Most  High.  In  the  image  of  God  are  we  made  no  doubt, 
but  what  child  would  kiss  the  image  of  liis  father  when  the 
father  offers  him  his  own  living  lips?" 

Paulus  had  meant  to  say  "  mother  "  instead  of  "  father," 
but  he  remembered  in  time  that  Hermas  had  early  lost  the 
happiness  of  caressing  a  mother,  and  had  hastily  amended  the 
phrase.  He  was  one  of  those  to  whom  it  is  so  painful  to  hurt 
another  that  they  never  touch  a  wounded  soul  unles.;  to  heal 
it,  divining  the  seat  of  even  the  most  hidden  pahi. 

He  was  accustomed  to  speak  but  little,  but  now  he  ^v  nt  on 
eagerly: 

"  By  so  much  as  God  is  far  above  our  miserable  selves,  by  so 
much  is  the  contemplation  of  Him  worthier  of  the  Christian 
than  that  of  his  own  person.  Oh!  who  is  indeed  so  happy  as 
to  have  wholly  lost  that  self  and  to  be  perfectly  absorbed  in 
God!  But  it  pursues  us,  and  when  the  soul  fondly  thinks 
itself  already  blended  in  union  with  the  Most  High  it  cries  out, 
*  Here  am  I!'  and  drags  our  nobler  part  down  again  into  the 
dust.  It  is  bad  enough  that  we  must  hinder  the  flight  of  the 
soul,  and  are  forced  to  nourish  and  strengthen  the  perishable 
part  of  our  being  with  bread  and  water  and  slothful  sleep,  to 
the  injury  of  the  immortal  part,  however  much  Ave  may  fast 
and  watch.  And  shall  we  indulge  the  flesh,  to  the  detriment 
of  the  spirit,  by  granting  it  any  of  its  demands  that  can  be 
ensily  denied?  Only  he  who  despises  and  sacrifices  his  wretchea 


79  HOMO    SUM. 

self  can,  when  he  has  lost  his  baser  self,  by  the  Eedeemer's 
grace,  find  himself  again  in  God. " 

Hermas  had  listened  patiently  to  the  anchorite,  but  he  nour 
shook  his  head,  and  said: 

"  I  can  not  understand  either  you  or  my  father.    So  long  as  . 
I  walk  on  this  earth  I  am  I  and  no  other.     After  death,  no 
doubt,  but  not  till  then,  will  a  new  and  eternal  life  begin." 

"  Not  so,"  cried  Paulus,  hastily,  interrupting  him.  "  That 
otlier  and  higher  life  of  which  you  speak  does  not  begin  only 
after  death  for  him  who  while  yet  he  lives  does  not  cease  from 
dying,  from  mortifying  the  flesh,  and  from  subduing  its  lusts, 
from  casting  from  him  the  world  and  his  baser  self,  and  from 
seeking  the  Lord.  It  has  been  vouchsafed  to  many  even  in 
the  midst  of  life  to  be  born  again  to  a  higher  existence.  Look 
at  me,  the  basest  of  the  base.  I  am  not  two  but  one,  and  yet 
am  I  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  as  certainly  another  man  than  I 
was  before  grace  found  me,  as  this  young  shoot,  which  has 
grown  from  the  roots  of  an  overthrown  palm-tree  is  another 
tree  than  the  rotten  trunk.  I  was  a  heathen  and  enjoyed 
every  pleasure  of  the  earth  to  the  utmost;  then  I  became  a 
Christian;  the  grace  of  the  Lord  fell  upon  me,  and  I  was  bom 
again,  and  became  a  child  again,  but  tms  time — the  Eeedeemer 
be  praised! — the  child  of  the  Lord.  In  the  midst  of  life  I  died,  I 
rose  again,  I  found  the  joys  of  heaven.  I  had  been  Menander, 
and  like  unto  Saul  I  became  Paulus.  All  that  Menander 
loved — baths,  feasts,  theaters,  horses  and  chariots,  games  in 
the  arena,  anointed  limbs,  roses  and  garlands,  purple  gar- 
ments, wine  and  the  love  of  women — ^lie  behind  me  like  some 
foul  bog  out  of  which  a  traveler  has  struggled  with  diflSculty. 
Not  a  vein  of  the  old  man  survives  in  the  new,  and  a  new  life 
has  begun  for  me,  midway  to  the  grave;  nor  for  me  only,  but 
for  all  pious  men.  For  you,  too,  the  hour  wiU  sound,  in  which 
you  will  die  too — " 

"  If  only  I,  like  you,  had  been  a  Menander,"  cried  Hermas, 
sharply  interrupting  the  speaker.  "  How  is  it  possible  to  cast 
away  that  which  I  never  possessed?  In  order  to  die  one  first 
must  live.  This  wretched  life  seems  to  me  contemptible,  and 
I  am  weary  of  running  after  you  like  a  calf  after  a  cow.  I  am 
free-born  and  of  noble  race;  my  father  himself  has  told  me 
so,  and  I  am  certainly  no  feebler  in  body  than  the  citizens' 
sons  in  the  town  with  whom  I  went  from  the  baths  to  the 
wrestling-school. " 

"  Did  you  go  the  Palaestra?"  asked  Paulus,  in  surprise.  ■I^ 

"  To  the  wrestling-school  of  Timagetus,"  cried  Hermas, 
coloring.    "  From  outside  the  gate  I  watched  the  games  of  the 


HOMO   SUM.  27 

youtlis  as  they  wrestled  and  threw  heavy  disks  at  a  mark. 
My  eyes  almost  sprung  out  of  my  head  at  the  sight,  and  1 
could  have  cried  out  aloud  with  envy  and  vexation  at  having 
to  stand  there  in  my  ragged  sheep-skin  excluded  from  all  com- 
petition. If  Pachomius  had  not  just  then  come  up,  by  the 
Lord  I  must  have  sprung  into  the  arena,  and  have  challenged 
the  strongest  of  them  all  to  wrestle  with  me,  and  I  could  have 
thrown  the  disk  much  further  than  the  scented  puppy  who 
won  the  victory  and  was  crowned.*' 

"  You  may  thank  Pachomius,"  said  Paul  us,  laughing,  "  for 
having  hindered  you,  for  you  would  have  earned  nothing  in 
the  arena  but  mockery  and  disgrace.  You  are  strong  enough, 
certainly,  but  the  art  of  the  discobolus  must  be  learned  like 
any  other.  Hercules  himself  would  be  beaten  at  that  game 
without  practice,  and  if  he  did  not  know  the  right  way  to 
handle  the  disk.  **  ' 

"  It  would  not  have  been  the  first  time  I  had  thrown  one,"* 
cried  the  boy.  "  See  what  I  can  do!"  With  these  words  he 
stooped  and  raised  one  of  the  flat  stones,  which  lay  piled  up 
to  secure  the  pathway;  extending  his  arm  with  all  his  strength, 
he  flung  the  granite  disk  over  the  precipice  away  into  the  abyss. 

"  There  you  see,"  cried  Paul  us,  who  had  watched  the  throw 
carefully  and  not  without  some  anxious  excitement.  "  How- 
ever strong  your  arm  may  be,  any  novice  could  throw  further 
than  you  if  only  he  knew  the  art  of  holding  the  discus.  It  is 
not  so — not  so;  it  must  cut  through  the  air  like  a  knife  with 
its  sharp  edge.  Look  how  you  hold  your  hand — you  throw  like 
a  woman!  The  wrist  straight,  and  now  your  left  foot  behind, 
and  your  knee  bent!  see,  how  clumsy  you  are!  Here,  give  me 
the  stone.  You  take  the  discus  so,  then  you  bend  your  body, 
and  press  down  your  knees  like  the  arc  of  a  bow,  so  that  every 
sinew  in  your  body  helps  to  speed  the  shot  when  you  let  go. 
Ay — that  is  better,  but  it  is  not  quite  right  yet.  First  heave 
the  discus  with  your  arm  stretched  out,  then  fix  your  eye  on 
the  mark;  now  swing  it  out  high  behind  you— stop!  once 
more!  your  arm  must  be  more  strongly  strained  before  you 
throw.  That  might  pass,  but  you  ought  to  be  able  to  hit  the 
palm-tree  yonder.  Give  me  your  discus  and  that  stone. 
There,  the  unequal  corners  hinder  its  flight — now  pay  atten- 
tion!" Paulus  spoke  with  growing  eagerness,  and  now  he 
grasped  the  flat  stone,  as  he  might  have  done  many  years  since 
when  no  youth  in  Alexandria  had  been  his  match  in  throwing 
the  discus. 

He  bent  his  knees,  stretched  out  his  body,  gave  play  to  his 
wrist,  extended  his  arm  to  the  utmost,  and  hurled  the  stone 


Z8  HOMO    STTM. 

into  space,  while  the  clinched  toes  of  his  right  foot  deeply 
dinted  the  soil. 

But  it  fell  to  the  ground  before  reaching  the  palm,  which 
Paulus  had  indicated  as  the  mark. 

"  Wait!'*  cried  Hermas.    "  Let  me  try  now  to  hit  the  tree. " 

His  stone  whistled  through  the  air,  but  it  did  not  even  reach 
the  mound  into  which  the  palm-tree  had  struck  root. 

Paulus  shook  his  head  disapprovingly,  and  in  his  turn  seized 
a  flat  stone;  and  now  an  eager  contest  began.  At  every  throw 
Hermas's  stone  flew  further,  for  he  copied  his  teacher's  action 
and  grasp  with  increasing  skill,  while  the  older  man's  arm 
began  to  tire.  At  last  Hermas  for  the  second  time  hit  the 
palm-tree,  while  Paulus  had  failed  to  reach  even  the  mound 
with  his  last  fling. 

The  pleasure  of  the  contest  took  stronger  possession  of  the 
anchorite;  he  flung  his  raiment  from  him,  and  seizing  another 
stone  he  cried  out — as  though  he  were  standing  once  more  in 
the  wrestling-school  among  his  old  companions,  all  shining  with 
their  anointment: 

"  By  the  silver-bowed  Apollo,  and  the  arrow-speeding  Arte- 
mis, I  will  hit  the  palm-tree. " 

The  missile  sung  through  the  air,  his  body  sprung  back,  and 
he  stretched  out  his  left  arm  to  save  his  tottering  balance; 
there  was  a  crash,  the  tree  quivered  under  the  blow,  and 
Hermas  shouted,  joyfully: 

"Wonderful!  wonderful!  that  was  indeed  a  throw.  The 
old  Menander  is  not  deadl  Farewell — to-morrow  we  will  try 
again.'' 

With  these  words  Hermas  quitted  the  anchorite,  and  hastened 
with  wide  leaps  down  the  hill  in  the  oasis. 

Paulus  started  at  the  words  like  a  sleep-walker  who  is  sud- 
denly wakened  by  hearing  his  name  called.  He  looked  about 
him  in  bewilderment,  as  if  he  had  to  find  his  way  in  some 
strange  world.  Drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his  brow,  and  with 
sudden  shame  he  snatched  up  his  garments  that  were  lying  on 
the  ground,  and  covered  his  naked  Umbs. 

For  some  time  he  stood  gazing  after  Hermas,  then  he  clasped 
his  brow  in  deep  anguish,  and  large  tears  ran  down  upon  his 

"  What  have  I  said?"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  That 
every  vein  of  the  old  man  in  me  was  extirpated?  Fool!  vain 
madman  that  I  am.  They  named  me  Paulus,  and  I  am  in 
truth  Saul,  ay,  and  worse  than  Saul!" 

With  these  words  he  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  pressing 
his  forehead  against  the  hard  rock,  and  began  to  pray.    He 


HOMO    SUM.  J<1 

felt  as  if  he  had  been  flung  from  a  height  on  to  spears  ai<I 

lances,  as  if  his  heart  and  soul  were  bleeding,  and  while  l«e 

remained  there,  dissolved  in  grief  and  prayer,  accusing  ar«d 

condemning  himself,  he  felt  not  the  burning  of  the  sun  as  it 

mounted  in  the  sky,  heeded  not  the  flight  of  time,  nor  heajti 

the  approach  of  a  party  of  pilgrims,  who,  under  the  guidance 

of  Bishop  Agapitus,  were  visiting   the   holy   places.      The 

maimers  saw  him  at  prayer,  heard  his  sobs,  and,  marveling  at 

lis  piety,  at  a  sign  from  their  pastor  they  knelt  down  bemnd 

lim. 

When  Paulus  at  last  rose  he  perceived  with  surprise  and 
alarm  the  witnesses  of  his  devotions,  and  approached  Agapitus 
to  kiss  his  robe.     But  the  bishop  said: 

"  Not  so;  he  that  is  most  pious  is  the  greatest  among  Qi 
My  friends,  let  us  bow  down  before  this  saintly  man!'* 

The  pilgrims  obeyed  his  command.  Paulus  hid  his  face  In 
his  hands  and  sobbed  out: 

"  Wretch,  wretch  that  I  am!" 

And  the  pilgrims  lauded  his  humility  and  followed  th«(r 
leader,  who  left  the  spot. 

CHAPTEE  m. 

Hebmas  had  hastened  onward  without  delay.  He  had  al- 
ready reached  the  last  bend  of  the  path  he  had  followed  down 
the  ravine,  and  he  saw  at  his  feet  the  long  narrow  valley  and 
the  gleaming  waters  of  the  stream,  which  here  fertilized  the 
soil  of  the  desert.  He  looked  down  on  lofty  palms  and 
tamarisk  shrubs  innumerable,  among  which  rose  the  houses 
of  the  inhabitants,  surrounded  by  their  little  gardens  and 
small,  carefully  irrigated  fields;  already  he  could  hear  the 
crowing  of  a  cock  and  the  hospitable  barking  of  a  dog,  sounds 
which  came  to  him  like  a  welcome  from  the  midst  of  that  life 
for  which  he  yearned,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  be  surrounded 
day  and  night  by  the  deep  and  lonely  stillness  of  the  rocky 
heights. 

He  stayed  his  steps,  and  his  eyes  followed  the  thin  column 
of  smoke,  which  floated  tremulously  up  in  the  clear  light  of 
the  ever  mounting  sun  from  the  numerous  hearths  that  lay 
below  him. 

"  They  are  cooking  breakfast  now,"  thought  he,  "  the  wives 
for  their  husbands,  the  mothers  for  their  children,  and  there, 
where  that  dark  smoke  rises,  very  likely  a  splendid  feast  is 
being  prejiared  for  guests;  but  I  am  nowhere  at  home,  and  no 
one  wul  mvite  me  in." 


80  HOMO  suw. 

The  contest  with  Paulus  had  excited  and  cheered  him,  but 
the  sight  of  the  city  filled  his  young  heart  with  renewed  bitter- 
ness, and  his  lips  trembled  as  he  looked  down  on  his  sheep- 
skin and  his  unwashed  Jimbs.  With  hasty  resolve  he  turned 
his  back  on  the  oasis  and  hurried  up  the  mountain.  By  the 
side  of  the  brooklet  that  he  knew  of  he  threw  off  his  coarse 
garment,  let  the  cool  water  flow  over  his  body,  washed  him- 
self carefully  and  with  much  enjoyment,  stroked  down  his 
thick  hair  with  his  fingers,  and  then  hurried  down  again  into 
the  valley. 

The  gorge  through  which  he  had  descended  debouched  by  a 
hillock  that  rose  from  the  valley  plain;  a  small  newly  buUt 
church  leaned  against  its  eastern  declivity,  and  it  was  fortified 
on  all  sides  by  walls  and  dikes,  behind  which  the  citizens 
found  shelter  when  they  were  threatened  by  the  Saracen  rob- 
bers of  the  oasis.  This  hill  passed  for  a  particularly  sacred 
spot.  Moses  was  supposed  to  have  praved  on  its  summit  dur- 
ing the  battle  with  the  Amalekites,  while  his  arms  were  held 
up  by  Aaron  and  Hur. 

But  there  were  other  notable  spots  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  oasis.  There,  further  to  the  north,  was  the  rock  whence 
Moses  had  struck  the  water;  there,  higher  up  and  more  to  the 
south-east,  was  the  hill  where  the  Lord  had  spoken  to  the  law- 
giver face  to  face,  and  where  he  had  seen  the  burning  bush; 
there  again  was  the  spring  where  he  had  met  the  daughters  of 
Jethro,  Zippora  and  Ledja,  so  called  in  the  legend.  Pious 
pilgrims  came  to  these  holy  places  in  great  numbers,  and 
among  them  many  natives  of  the  peninsula,  particularly 
Nabateans,  who  had  previously  visited  the  holy  mountain  in 
order  to  sacrifice  on  its  summit  to  their  gods,  the  sun,  moon, 
and  planets.  At  the  outlet,  toward  the  north,  stood  a  castle, 
which  ever  since  the  Syrian  Prefect,  CorneUus  Palma,  had  sub- 
dued Arabia  Petraea  in  the  time  of  Trajan,  had  been  held  by  a 
Roman  garrison  for  the  protection  of  the  blooming  city  of  the 
desert  against  the  incursions  of  the  marauding  Saracens  and 
Blemmyes. 

But  the  citizens  of  Pharan  themselves  had  taken  measures 
for  the  security  of  their  property.  On  the  topmost  cliffs  of 
the  jagged  crown  of  the  giant  mountain — the  most  favorable 
spots  for  a  look-out  far  and  wide — they  placed  sentinels,  who 
day  and  night  scanned  the  distance,  so  as  to  give  a  warning- 
signal  in  case  of  approaching  danger.  Each  house  resemblm 
a  citadel,  for  it  was  built  of  strong  masonry,  and  the  younger 
men  were  all  well  exercised  bowmen.  The  more  distinguished 
families  dwelt  near  the  church-hill,  and  there,  too,  stood  the 


HOMO    SUIT.  81 

houses  of  the  hishop  Agapitus,  and  of  the  city  cotmcflors  of 
Pharan. 

Among  these  the  senator  Petrus  enjoyed  the  greatest  re- 
spect, partly  by  reason  of  his  solid  abilities,  and  of  his  posses- 
sions in  quarries,  garden  ground,  date-palms,  and  cattle;  partly 
in  consequence  of  the  rare  qualities  of  his  wife,  the  deaconess 
Dorothea,  the  granddaughter  of  the  long-deceased  and  venera- 
ble Bishop  Chaeremon,  who  had  fled  hither  with  his  wife  during 
the  persecution  of  the  Christians  under  Decius,  and  who  had 
converted  many  of  the  Pharanites  to  the  knowledge  of  the 
Eedeemer. 

The  house  of  Petrus  was  of  strong  and  well -Joined  stone, 
and  the  palm-garden  adjoining  was  carefully  tended.  Twenty 
slaves,  many  camels,  and  even  two  horses  belonged  to  hin?) 
and  the  centurion  in  command  of  the  Imperial  garrison,  the 
Gaul  Phoebicius,  and  his  wife  Sirona,  lived  as  lodgers  under  his 
roof;  not  quite  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  councilor,  for  the 
Centurion  was  no  Christian,  but  a  worshiper  of  Mithras,  in 
whose  mysteries  the  wild  Gaul  had  risen  to  the  grade  of  a 
"  Lion,"  whence  his  people,  and  with  them  the  Pharanites  in 
general,  were  wont  to  speak  of  him  as  "  the  Lion." 

His  predecessor  had  been  an  officer  of  much  lower  rank  but 
a  believing  Christian,  whom  Petrus  liad  himself  requested  to 
live  in  his  house,  and  when,  about  a  year  since,  the  Lion 
Phoebicius  had  taken  the  place  of  the  pious  Pankratius,  the 
senator  could  not  refuse  him  the  quarters,  which  had  become 
a  right. 

Hermas  went  shyly  and  timidly  toward  the  court  of  Petrus* 
house,  and  his  embarrassment  increased  when  he  found  himself 
in  the  hall  of  the  stately  stone-house,  which  he  had  entered 
without  let  or  hinderance,  and  did  not  know  which  way  to 
turn.  There  was  no  one  there  to  direct  him,  and  he  dared  not 
go  up  the  stairs  which  led  to  the  upper  story,  although  it 
seemed  that  Petrus  must  be  there.  Yes,  there  was  no  doubt, 
for  he  heard  talking  overhead  and  clearly  distinguished  the 
senator's  deep  voice.  Hermas  advanced,  and  set  his  foot  on 
the  first  step  of  the  stairs;  but  he  had  scarcely  begun  to  go  up 
with  some  decision,  and  feeling  ashamed  of  his  bashfulness, 
when  he  heard  a  door  fly  open  just  above  him,  and  from  it 
there  poured  a  flood  of  fresh  laughing  children's  voices,  like  a 
pent  up  stream  when  the  miller  opens  the  sluice  gate. 

He  glanced  upward  in  surprise,  but  there  was  no  time  for 
consideration,  for  the  shouting  troop  of  released  little  ones  had 
already  reached  the  stairs.  In  front  of  all  hastened  a  beautiful 
young  woman  with  golden  hair;  she  was  laughing  gayly,  and 


33  HOMO    SUM. 

held  a  gaudily  dressed  dell  high  above  her  head.  She  came 
backward  toward  the  steps  turning  her  fair  face  beaming  with 
fun  and  dslight  toward  the  children,  who,  full  of  their  eager 
longing,  half  demanding,  half  begging,  half  laughing,  half 
crying,  shouted  in  confusion,  "  Let  us  be,  Sirona,"  "  I)o  not 
take  it  away  again,  Sirona,"  "Do  stay  here,  Sirona,"  again 
and  again,  "  Sirona — Sirona.^' 

A  lovely  six-year-old  maiden  stretched  up  as  far  as  she  could 
to  reach  the  round  white  arm  that  held  the  plaything;  with 
her  left  hand,  which  was  free,  she  gayly  pushed  away  three 
smaller  children,  who  tried  to  cling  to  her  knees,  and  ex- 
claimed, still  stepping  backward,  "  No,  no;  you  shall  not  have 
it  till  it  has  a  new  gown;  it  shall  be  as  long  and  as  gay  as  the 
emperor's  robe.  Let  me  go,  Csecilia,  or  you  will  fall  down  as 
naughty  Nikon  did  the  other  day." 

By  this  time  she  had  reached  the  steps;  she  turned  suddenly, 
and  with  outstretched  arms  she  stopped  the  way  of  the  narrow 
stair  on  which  Hermas  was  standing,  gazing  open-mouthed  at 
the  merry  scene  above  his  head.  Just  as  Sirona  was  preparing 
to  run  down,  she  perceived  him  and  started;  but  when  she  saw 
that  the  anchorite  from  pure  embarrassment  could  find  no 
words  in  which  to  answer  her  question  as  to  what  he  wanted, 
she  laughed  heartily  again  and  called  out : 

"  Come  up,  we  shall  not  hurt  you — shall  we  children?" 

Meanwhile  Hermas  had  found  courage  enough  to  give  utter- 
ance to  his  wish  to  speak  with  the  senator,  and  the  young 
woman,  who  looked  with  complacency  on  his  strong  and  youth- 
ful frame,  offered  to  conduct  him  to  him. 

Petrus  had  been  talking  to  his  grown-up  elder  sons;  they 
were  tall  men,  but  their  father  was  even  taller  than  they,  and 
of  imusual  breadth  of  shoulder. 

While  the  young  men  were  speaking  he  stroked  his  short 
gay  beard  and  looked  down  at  the  ground  in  somber  gravity, 
as  it  might  have  seemed  to  the  careless  observer;  but  any  one 
who  looked  closer  might  quickly  perceive  that  not  seldom  a 
pleased  smile,  though  not  less  often  a  somewhat  bitter  one, 
played  upon  the  lips  of  the  prudent  and  judicious  man.  He 
was  one  of  those  who  can  play  with  their  children  like  a  young 
mother,  take  the  sorrows  of  another  as  much  to  heart  as  if 
they  were  their  own,  and  yet  who  look  so  gloomy,  and  allow 
themselves  to  make  such  sharp  speeches  that  only  those  who 
are  on  terms  of  perfect  confide'jce  with  them,  cease  to  mis- 
understand them  and  fear  them.  There  was  something  fret- 
ting the  soul  of  this  man,  who  nevertheless  possessed  all  that 
coiSd  contribute  to  human  happiness.     His  was  a  thankful 


HOMO    SUM.  33 

nature,  and  yet  he  was  conscious  that  he  nxight  hare  beea 
destined  to  something  greater  than  fate  had  permitted  him  to 
achieve  or  to  be.  He  had  remained  a  stone-cutter,  but  his 
sons  had  both  completed  their  education  in  good  schools  in 
Alexandria.  The  elder,  Antonius,  who  already  had  a  house  of 
his  own  and  a  wife  and  children,  was  an  architect  and  artist- 
mechanic;  the  younger,  Polykarp,  was  a  gifted  young  sculp- 
iar.  The  noble  church  of  the  oasis  city  had  been  built  under 
ihe  direction  of  the  elder;  Polykarp,  who  had  only  come  home 
a  month  since,  was  preparing  to  estabhsh  and  (^arry  on  works 
of  great  extent  in  his  father's  quarries,  for  he  had  received  a 
commission  to  decorate  the  new  court  of  the  Sebasteion  or 
Caesareum,  as  it  was  called — a  grand  pile  in  Alexandria— with 
twenty  granite  lions.  More  than  thirty  artists  had  competed 
with  him  for  this  work,  but  the  prize  was  unanimously  ad- 
judged to  Jiis  models  by  qualified  judges.  The  architect  whose 
function  it  was  to  construct  the  colonnades  and  pavement  of 
the  court  was  his  friend,  and  had  agreed  to  procure  the  blocks 
of  granite,  the  flags  and  the  columns  which  he  required  from 
Petrus's  quarries,  and  not,  as  had  formerly  been  the  custom, 
from  those  of  Syene  by  the  first  Cataract. 

Antonius  and  Polykarp  were  now  standing  with  their  father 
before  a  large  table,  explaining  to  him  a  plan  which  they  had 
worked  out  together  and  traced  on  the  thin  wax  surface  of  a 
wooden  tablet.  The  young  architect's  proposal  was  to  bridge 
over  a  deep  but  narrow  gorge,  which  the  beasts  of  burden  were 
obliged  to  avoid  by  making  a  wide  circuit,  and  so  to  make  a 
new  way  from  the  quarries  to  the  sea,  which  should  be  shorter 
by  a  third  than  the  old  one.  The  cost  of  this  structure  would 
soon  be  recouped  by  the  saving  in  labor,  and  with  perfect  cer- 
tainty, if  only  the  transport-ships  were  laden  at  Clysma  with  a 
profitable  return  freight  of  Alexandrian  manufactures,  instead 
of  returning  empty,  as  they  had  hitherto  done.  Petrus,  who 
could  shine  as  a  speaker  in  the  council  meetings,  in  private  life 
rfpoke  but  little.  At  each  of  his  son's  new  projects  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  the  speaker's  face,  as  if  to  see  whether  the  young 
man  had  not  lost  his  wits,  while  his  mouth,  only  half  liidden 
tj  his  gray  beard,  smiled  approvingly. 

When  Antonius  began  to  unfold  his  plan  for  remedying  the 
inconvenience  of  the  ravine  that  impeded  the  way,  the  senator 
mutt3red:  "  Only  get  feathers  to  grow  on  the  slaves,  and  turn 
the  black  ones  into  ravens  and  the  white  ones  into  gulls,  and 
then  they  might  fly  across.  What  do  not  people  learn  in  the 
metropolis!" 

When  he  heard  the  word  "  bridge  "  he  stared  at  the  young 


34  HOMO    SUM. 

artist.  "The  only  question,"  said  he,  "is  whether  Heaven 
will  lend  us  a  rainbow. "  But  when  Polykarp  proposed  to  get 
some  cedar  trunks  from  Syria,  through  his  friend  in  Alexandria, 
and  wheii  his  elder  son  explained  his  drawings  of  the  arch  with 
which  he  promised  to  span  the  gorge  and  make  it  strong  and 
safe,  he  followed  their  words  with  attention;  at  the  same  time 
he  knit  his  eyebrows  as  gloomily  and  looked  as  stern  as  if  he 
were  listening  to  some  narrative  of  crime.  Still,  he  let  them 
speak  on  to  the  end,  and  though  at  first  he  only  muttered 
that  it  was  mere  "  fancy-work  "or,  "  Ay,  indeed,  if  I  were  the 
emperor,"  he  afterward  asked  clear  and  precise  questions,  to 
which  he  received  positive  and  well  considered  answers.  An- 
tonius  proved  by  figures  that  the  profit  on  the  delivery  of 
material  for  the  Caesareum  only  would  cover  more  than  three- 
quarters  of  the  outlay.  Then  Polykarp  began  to  speak,  and 
declared  that  the  granite  of  the  Holy  Mountain  was  finer  in 
color  and  in  larger  blocks  than  that  from  Syeue. 

"  We  work  cheaper  here  than  at  the  Cataract,"  interrupted 
Antonius.  "  And  the  transport  of  the  blocks  will  not  come 
too  dear  when  we  have  the  bridge  and  command  the  road  to 
the  sea,  and  avail  ourselves  of  the  canal  of  Trajan,  which 
joins  the  Nile  to  the  Bed  Sea,  and  which  in  a  few  months  will 
again  be  navigable." 

"  And  if  my  lions  are  a  success,*'  added  Polykarp,  "  and  if 
Zenodotus  is  satisfied  with  our  stone  and  our  work,  it  may 
easily  happen  that  we  outstrip  Syene  in  competition,  and  that 
some  of  the  enormous  orders  that  now  flow  from  Constan tine's 
new  residence  to  the  quarries  at  Syene  may  find  their  way  to 
us." 

"Polykarp  is  not  oversanguine, "  continued  Antonius, 
"  for  the  emperor  is  beautifying  and  adding  to  Byzantium 
with  eager  haste.  Whoever  erects  a  new  house  has  a  yearly 
allowance  of  corn,  and  in  order  to  attract  folks  of  our  stamp — ■ 
of  whom  he  can  not  get  enough — he  promises  entire  exemption 
from  taxation  to  all  sculptors,  architects,  and  even  to  skilled 
'laborers.  If  we  finish  the  blocks  and  pillars  here  exactly  to 
the  designs,  they  will  take  up  no  superfluous  room  in  the  ships, 
and  no  one  will  be  able  to  deliver  them  so  cheaply  as  we.'* 

"  No,  nor  so  good,"  cried  Polykarp,  "  for  you  yourself  are 
an  artist,  father,  and  understand  stone-work  as  well  as  any 
man.  I  never  saw  a  flner  or  more  equally  colored  granite 
than  the  block  you  picked  out  for  my  first  lion.  I  am  finish- 
ing it  here  on  the  spot,  and  I  fancy  it  will  make  a  show.  Cer- 
tainly it  will  be  difficult  to  take  a  foremost  place  among  the 


HOMO    SUM.  35 

noblo  works  ol  the  most  splendid  period  of  art,  which  already 
filled  the  Caesareum,  but  I  will  do  my  best." 

"  The  lions  will  be  admirable,"  cried  Antonius,  with  a 
glance  of  pride  at  his  brother.  "  Nothing  like  them  has  been 
done  by  any  one  these  ten  years,  and  I  know  the  Alexandrians. 
If  the  master's  work  is  praised  that  is  made  out  of  granite 
from  the  Holy  Mountain,  all  the  world  will  have  granite  from 
thence  and  from  nowhere  else.  It  all  depends  on  whether  the 
transport  of  the  stone  to  the  sea  can  be  made  less  difficult  and 
costly.  *' 

"  Let  us  try  it,  then,"  said  Petrus,  who  during  his  sons'  talk 
had  walked  up  and  down  before  them  in  silence.  "  Let  us  try 
the  building  of  the  bridge,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  We  will 
work  out  the  road  if  the  municipality  will  declare  themselves 
r-eady  to  bear  half  the  cost;  not  otherwise,  and  I  tell  you 
frankly,  you  have  both  grown  most  able  men." 

The  younger  son  grasped  his  father's  hand  and  pressed  it  with 
warm  affection  to  his  lips.  Petrus  hastily  stroked  his  brown 
locks,  then  he  offered  his  strong  right  arm  to  his  eldest-bora, 
and  said: 

"  We  must  increase  the  number  of  our  slaves.  Call  your 
mother,  Polykarp." 

The  youth  obeyed  with  cheerful  alacrity,  and  when  Dame 
Dorothea — who  was  sitting  at  the  loom  with  her  daughter 
Marthana  and  some  of  her  female  slaves — saw  him  rush  into 
the  women's  room  with  a  glowing  face,  she  rose  with  youthful 
briskness  in  spite  of  her  stout  and  dignified  figure,  and  called 
out  to  her  son: 

"  He  has  approved  of  your  plans?" 

"Bridge  and  all,  mother — everything,"  cried  the  young 
man.  "  Finer  granite  for  my  hons  than  my  father  has 
picked  out  for  me  is  nowhere  to  be  found,  and  how  glad  I 
am  for  Antonius!  only  we  must  have  patience  about  the  road- 
way.    He  wants  to  speak  to  you  at  once. " 

Dorothea  signed  to  her  son  to  moderate  his  ecstasy,  for  he 
had  seized  her  hand  and  was  pulling  her  away  with  him;  but 
the  tears  that  stood  in  her  kind  eyes  testified  how  deeply  she 
sympathized  in  her  favorite's  excitement. 

"Patience,  patience,  I  am  coming  directly,"  cried  she, 
drawing  away  her  hand  in  order  to  arrange  her  dress  and  her 
gray  hair,  which  was  abundant  and  carefully  dressed,  and 
formed  a  meet  setting  for  her  still  pleasing  and  un  wrinkled 
face. 

"  I  knew  it  would  be  so;  when  you  have  a  reasonable  thing 
to  propose  to  your  father,  he  will  listen  to  you  and  agree  witu 


86  HOMO   SUM. 

you  without  any  intervention;  women  should  not  mix  them- 
selves up  with  men's  work.  Youth  draws  a  strong  bow  and 
often  shoots  beyond  the  mark.  It  would  be  a  pretty  thing  if 
out  of  foolish  affection  for  you  I  were  to  try  to  play  the  siren 
that  should  insnare  the  steersman  of  the  house — your  father — 
with  flattering  words.  You  laugh  at  the  gray-haired  siren? 
But  love  overlooks  the  ravages  of  years  and  has  a  good  memory 
for  all  that  once  was  pleasing.  Besides,  men  have  not  always 
wax  in  their  ears  when  they  should  have.  Come  now  to  your 
father." 

Dorothea  went  out  past  Polykarp  and  her  daughter.  The 
former  held  his  sister  back  by  the  hand  and  asked: 

"  "Was  not  Sirona  with  you?" 

The  sculptor  tried  to  appear  quite  indifferent,  but  he 
blushed  as  he  spoke;  Marthana  observed  this  and  replied,  not 
without  a  roguish  glance: 

"  She  did  show  us  her  pretty  face;  but  important  business 
called  her  away. " 

"  Sirona?"  asked  Polykarp,  incredulously. 

"  Certainly,  why  not!"  answered  Marthana,  laughing. 
"  She  had  to  sew  a  new  gown  for  the  children's  doll." 

"  Why  do  you  mock  at  her  kindness?"  said  Polykarp,  re- 
proachfully. 

"  How  sensitive  you  are!"  said  Marthana,  softly.  "  Sirona 
is  as  kind  and  sweet  as  an  angel;  but  you  had  better  look  at 
her  rather  less,  for  she  is  not  one  of  us,  and  repulsive  as  the 
choleric  centurion  is  to  me — " 

She  said  no  more,  for  Dame  Dorothea,  having  reached  the 
door  of  the  sitting-room,  looked  round  for  her  children. 

Petrus  received  his  wife  with  no  less  gravity  than  was  usual 
with  him,  but  there  was  an  arch  sparHe  in  his  half-closed 
eyes  as  he  asked: 

"  You  scarcely  know  what  is  going  on,  I  suppose?" 

"  You  are  madmen-  who  would  fain  take  Heaven  by 
Btorm,"  she  answered,  gayly. 

^  "If  the  undertaking  fails,"  said  Petrus,  pointing  to  his 
pons,  "  those  yoimg  ones  will  feel  the  loss  longer  than  we 
shall." 

"But  it  will  succeed,"  cried  Dorothea.  "An  old  com- 
mander and  young  soldiers  can  win  any  battle. "  She  held 
out  her  small,  plump  hand  with  frank  briskness  to  her  hus- 
band; he  clasped  it  cheerily  and  said: 

"  I  think  I  can  carry  the  project  for  the  road  through  the 
senate.     To  build  our  bridge  we  must  also  procure  helping 


HOMO    SUM.  37 

hands,  and  for  that  we  need  your  aid,  Dorothea.     Our  slaves 
will  not  suffice." 

"  Wait,"  cried  the  lady,  eagerly;  she  went  to  the  window 
and  called:  "  Jethro,  Jethro!" 

The  person  thus  addressed,  the  old  house-steward,  appeared, 
and  Dorothea  began  to  discuss  with  him  as  to  which  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  oasis  might  be  disposed  to  let  them  have  some 
able-bodied  men,  and  whether  it  might  not  be  possble  to 
employ  one  or  another  of  the  house-slaves  at  the  building. 

All  that  she  said  was  judicious  and  precise,  and  showed  that 
she  herself  superintended  her  household  in  every  detail,  and 
was  accustomed  to  command  with  complete  freedom. 

"  That  tall  Anubis,  then,  is  really  indispensable  in  the 
stable?"  she  asked,  in  conclusion.  The  steward,  who  up  to 
this  moment  had  spoken  shortly  and  intelligently,  hesitated  to 
answer;  at  the  same  time  he  looked  up  at  Petrus,  who,  sunk 
in  the  contemplation  of  the  plan,  had  his  back  to  him;  his 
glance,  and  a  deprecating  movement,  expressed  very  clearly 
that  he  had  something  to  tell,  but  feared  to  speak  in  the  pres- 
ence of  his  master.  Dame  Dorothea  was  quick  of  compre- 
hension, and  she  quite  understood  Jethro's  meaning;  it  was 
for  that  very  reason  that  she  said,  with  more  of  surprise  than 
displeasure: 

"  What  does  the  man  mean  with  his  winks?  What  I  may 
hear  Petrus  may  hear  too. " 

The  senator  turned,  and  looked  at  the  steward  from  head  to 
foot  with  so  dark  a  glance  that  he  drew  back  and  began  to 
speak  quickly.  But  he  was  interrupted  by  the  children's 
clamors  on  the  stairs  and  by  Sirona,  who  brought  Hermas 
to  the  senator,  and  said,  laughing: 

"  I  foimd  this  great  fellow  on  the  stairs;  he  was  seeking 
you." 

Petrus  looked  at  the  youth,  not  very  kindly,  and  asked: 

"  Who  are  you?  what  is  your  business?" 

Hermas  struggled  in  vain  for  speech;  the  presence  of  so 
many  human  beings,  of  whom  three  were  women,  filled  him 
with  the  utmost  confusion.  His  fingers  twisted  the  woolly 
curls  on  his  sheep-skin,  and  his  lips  moved  but  gave  no  sound; 
at  last  he  succeeded  in  stammering  out:  "  I  am  the  son  of  old 
Stephanus,  who  was  wounded  in  the  last  raid  of  the  Saracens. 
My  father  has  hardly  slept  these  five  nights,  and  now  Paulus 
has  sent  me  to  you — the  pious  Paulus  of  Alexandria — but  you 
know — and  so  I — " 

"I  see,  I  see,"  said  Petrus,  with  encouraging  kindness. 
"  You  want  some  medicine  for  the  old  man.     i^o,  Dorothea, 


85  HOMO    SUM. 

what  a  fine  young  fellow  he  is  grown;  this  is  the  little  man 
that  the  Antiochiau  took  with  liim  up  the  mountain. " 

Hermas  colored  and  drew  himself  up;  then  he  observed 
with  great  satisfaction  that  he  was  taller  than  the  senator's 
eons,  who  were  of  about  the  same  age  as  he,  and  for  whom  he 
had  a  stronger  feeling,  allied  to  aversion  and  fear,  than  even 
for  their  stem  father.  Polykarp  measured  him  with  a  glance, 
and  said  aloud  to  Sirona,  with  whom  he  had  exchanged  a 
greeting,  and  off  whom  he  had  never  once  taken  his  eyes  since 
she  had  come  in : 

"  If  we  could  get  twenty  slaves  with  such  shoulders  as  those 
we  should  get  on  well.  There  is  work  to  be  done  here,  you 
big  fellow — " 

"  My  name  is  not  '  fellow,'  but  Hermas,"  said  the  anchorite, 
and  the  veins  of  his  forehead  began  to  swell. 

Polykarp  felt  that  his  father's  visitor  was  something  more 
than  his  poor  clothing  would  seem  to  indicate,  and  that  he  had 
hurt  his  feelings.  He  had  certainly  seen  some  old  anchorites, 
who  led  a  contemplative  and  penitential  life  up  on  the  sacred 
mountain,  but  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  a  strong 
youth  could  belong  to  the  brotherhood  of  hermits,  ho  he  said 
to  him,  kindly: 

"  Hermas — is  that  your  name?  We  all  use  our  hands  here, 
and  labor  is  no  disgrace;  what  is  your  handicraft?" 

This  question  roused  the  young  anchorite  to  the  highest  ex- 
citement, and  Dame  Dorothea,  who  perceived  what  was  pass- 
ing in  his  mind,  said,  with  quick  decision: 

"  He  nurses  his  sick  father.  That  is  what  you  do,  my  son, 
is  it  not?    Petrus  will  not  refuse  you  his  help. " 

"  Certainly  not,"  the  senator  added;  "  I  will  accompany 
you  by  and  by  to  see  him.  You  must  know,  my  children, 
that  this  youth's  father  was  a  great  lord,  who  gave  up  rich 
possessions  in  order  to  forget  the  world,  where  he  had  gone 
through  bitter  experiences,  and  to  serve  God  in  his  own  way, 
which  we  ought  to  respect  though  it  is  not  our  own.  Sit  down 
there,  my  son.  First  we  must  finish  some  important  business, 
and  then  I  will  go  with  you. " 

"  We  live  high  up  on  the  mountain,"  stammered  Hermas. 

"  Then  the  air  will  be  all  the  purer,"  replied  the  senator. 
"  But  stay — perhaps  the  old  man  is  alone — no?  The  good 
Paulus,  you  say,  is  with  him?  Then  he  is  in  good  hands,  and 
you  may  wait. 

For  a  moment  Petrus  stood  considering,  then  he  beckoned 
to  his  sons,  and  said:  "  Ahtonius,  go  at  once  and  see  about 
some  slaves — ^you,  Polykarp,  find  some  strong  beasts  of  burden. 


HOMO    SUM.  '  39 

You  are  generally  rather  easy  with  your  money,  and  in  this 
case  it  is  worth  while  to  buy  the  dearest.  The  sooner  you  re- 
turn well  supplied  the  better.  Action  must  not  halt  behind 
decision,  but  follow  it  quickly  and  sharply,  as  the  sound  fol- 
lows the  blow.  You,  Marthana,  mix  some  of  the  brown  fever- 
potion,  and  prepare  some  bandages;  you  have  the  key. " 

"  I  will  help  her,"  cried  Sirona,  who  was  glad  to  prove 
herself  useful,  and  who  was  sincerely  sorry  for  the  sick  old 
hermit;  besides,  Hermas  seemed  to  her  hke  a  discovery  of  her 
own,  for  whom  she  involuntarily  felt  more  consideration  since 
she  had  learned  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  man  of  rank. 

While  the  young  women  were  busy  at  the  medicine  cupboard 
Antonius  and  Polykarp  left  the  room. 

The  latter  had  already  crossed  the  threshold,  when  he  turned 
once  more  and  cast  a  long  look  at  Sirona.  Then,  with  a  hasty 
movement,  he  went  on,  closed  the  door,  and  with  a  heavy  sigh 
descended  the  stairs. 

As  soon  as  his  sons  were  gone  Petrus  returned  to  the  steward 
figain. 

"  What  is  wrong  with  the  slave  Anubis?"  he  asked. 

"He  is — wounded,  hurt,"  answered  Jethro,  "and  for  the 
next  few  days  will  be  useless.  The  goat-girl  Miriam — the  wild 
cat — cut  his  forehead  with  her  reaping-hook." 

"  Why  did  I  not  hear  of  this  sooner?"  cried  Dorothea,  re- 
provingly.    "  W^hat  have  you  done  to  the  girl?" 

"  We  have  shut  her  up  in  the  hay-loft,"  answered  Jethro, 
"  and  there  she  is  raging  and  storming. "  The  mistress  shook 
her  head  disapprovingly.  "  The  girl  will  not  be  improved  by 
that  treatment,"  she  said.     "  Go  and  bring  her  to  me." 

As  soon  as  the  attendant  had  left  the  room  she  exclaimed, 
turning  to  her  husband:  "One  may  well  be  perplexed  about 
these  poor  creatures  when  one  sees  how  they  behave  t,o  each 
other.  I  have  seen  it  a  thousand  timesi  No  judgment  is  sc 
hard  as  that  dealt  by  a  slave  to  slaves!" 

Jethro  and  a  woman  now  led  Miriam  into  the  room.  The 
girl's  hands  were  bound  with  thick  cords,  and  dry  grass  clung 
to  her  dress  and  rough  black  hair.  A  dark  fire  glowed  in  her 
eyes,  and  the  muscles  of  her  face  moved  incessantly,  as  if  she 
had  St.  Vitus's  dance.  When  Dorothea  looked  at  her  she 
drew  herself  up  defiantly  and  looked  round  the  room,  as  if  to 
estimate  the  strength  of  her  enemies. 

She  then  perceived  Hermas;  the  blood  left  her  lips,  with  a 
•  iolent  eilort  she  tore  her  slender  hands  out  of  the  loops  that 
confined  them,  covering  her  face  with  them,  and  fled  to  the 
ioor.    But  Jethro  put  himself  in  her  way,  and  seized  ber 


40  noMo  SUM. 

shoulder  with  a  strong  grasp.  Miriam  shrieked  aloud,  and  the 
senator's  daughter,  who  had  set  down  the  medicines  she  had 
had  in  her  hand,  and  had  watched  the  girl's  movements  with 
much  sympathy,  hastened  toward  her.  She  pushed  away  the 
old  man's  hand,  and  said:  "Do  not  be  frightened,  Miriam. 
Whatever  you  may  have  done,  my  father  can  forgive  you. " 

Her  voice  had  a  tone  of  sisterly  affection,  and  the  shepherd- 
ess followed  Marthana  unresistingly  to  the  table,  on  which  the 
plans  for  the  bridge  were  lying,  and  stood  there  by  her  side. 

For  a  minute  all  were  silent;  at  last  Dame  Dorothea  went 
up  to  Miriam,  and  asked:  "What  did  they  do  to  you,  my 
poor  child,  that  you  could  so  forget  yourself?" 

Miriam  could  not  understand  what  was  happening  to  her; 
she  had  been  prepared  for  scoldings  and  blows,  nay,  for  bonds 
a.nd  imprisonment,  and  now  these  gentle  words  and  kind  looks! 
Her  defiant  spirit  was  quelled,  her  eyes  met  the  friendly  eyes 
of  her  mistress,  and  she  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"  He  had  followed  me  for  such  a  long  time,  and  wanted  to 
ask  you  for  me  as  his  wife;  but  I  can  not  bear  him — I  hate 
him,  as  I  do  all  )^our  slaves. "  At  these  words  her  eyes  sparkled 
wildly  again,  and  with  her  old  fire  she  went  on:  "I  wish  I  had 
only  hit  him  with  a  stick  instead  of  a  sickle;  but  I  took  what 
first  came  to  hand  to  defend  myself.  When  a  man  touches 
me — I  can  not  bear  it,  it  is  horrible,  dreadful!  Yesterday  I 
came  home  later  than  usual  with  the  beasts,  and  by  the  time 
I  had  milked  the  goats,  and  was  going  to  bed,  every  one  in  the 
house  was  asleep.  Then  Anubis  met  me,  and  began  chatter- 
ing about  love;  I  repelled  him,  but  he  seized  me,  and  held  me 
with  his  hand  here  on  my  head  and  wanted  to  kiss  me;  then 
my  blood  rose,  I  caught  hold  of  my  reaping-hook  that  hung 
by  mv  side,  and  it  was  not  till  I  saw  him  roaring  on  the 
ground  that  I  saw  I  had  done  wrong.  How  it  happened  I 
really  can  not  tell — something  seemed  to  rise  up  in  me — some- 
thing— I  don't  know  what  to  call  it.  It  drives  me  on  as  the 
wind  drives  the  leaves  that  lie  on  the  road,  and  I  can  not  help 
it.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  let  me  die,  for  then  you 
•would  be  safe  once  for  all  from  my  wickedness,  and  all  would 
be  over  and  done  with. " 

"  How  can  you  speak  so?"  interrupted  Marthana.  "  You 
are  wild  and  ungovernable,  but  not  wicked. " 

"  Only  ask  him!"  cried  the  girl,  pointing  with  flashing  eyes 
to  Hernias,  who,  on  his  part,  looked  down  at  the  floor  in  con- 
fusion. The  senator  exchanged  a  hasty  glance  with  his  wife; 
they  were  accustomed  to  understand  each  other  without  speech, 
and  Dorothea  said: 


HOMO    SUM.  41 

"  He  who  feels  that  he  is  not  what  he  ought  to  be,  is  already 
on  the  high-road  to  amendment.  We  let  you  keep  the  goats 
because  you  were  always  running  after  the  flocks,  and  never 
can  rest  in  the  house.  You  are  up  on  the  mountain  before 
morning  prayer,  and  never  come  home  till  after  supper  is  over, 
and  no  one  takes  any  thought  for  the  better  part  of  you.  Half 
of  your  guilt  recoils  upon  us,  and  we  have  no  right  to  punish 
you.  You  need  not  be  so  astonished;  every  one  sometimes 
does  wrong.  Petrus  and  I  are  human  beings  Mke  you,  neither 
more  nor  less;  but  we  are  Christians,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  look 
after  the  souls  which  God  has  intrusted  to  our  care,  be  they 
our  children  or  our  slaves.  You  must  go  no  more  up  the 
mountain,  but  shall  stay  with  us  in  the  house.  I  shall  will- 
iigly  forgive  your  hasty  deed  if  Petrus  does  not  think  it  neces- 
sary to  punish  you.'' 

The  senator  gravely  shook  his  head  in  sign  of  agreement, 
and  Dorothea  turned  to  inquire  of  Jethro: 

"  Is  Anubis  badly  wounded,  and  does  he  need  any  care?" 

"He  is  lying  in  a  fever  and  wanders  in  his  talk,"  was  the 
answer.     "  Old  Praxinoa  is  cooling  his  wound  with  water." 

"  Then  Miriam  can  take  her  place  and  try  to  remedy  the 
mischief  which  she  was  the  cause  of,"  said  Dorothea.  "  Half 
of  your  guilt  will  be  atoned  for,  girl,  if  Anubis  recovers  under 
your  care.  I  will  come  presently  with  Marthana,  and  show 
you  how  to  make  a  bandage."  The  shepherdess  cast  dovm 
her  eyes,  and  passively  allowed  herself  to  be  conducted  to  the 
wounded  man. 

Meanwhile  Marthana  had  prepared  the  brown  mixture. 
Petrus  had  his  staff  and  felt  hat  brought  to  him,  gave  Hermas 
the  medicine  and  desired  him  to  follow  him. 

Sirona  looked  after  the  couple  as  they  went.  "  What  a  pity 
for  such  a  fine  lad!"  she  exclaimed.  "  A  purple  coat  would 
suit  him  better  than  that  wretched  sheep-skin. " 

The  mistress  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  signing  to  hei 
daughter,  said: 

"  Come  to  work,  Marthana,  the  sun  is  already  high.  How 
the  days  fly  I  the  older  one  grows  the  quicker  the  hours  hurry 
away." 

"I  must  be  very  young,  then,"  said  the  centurion's  wife, 
"  for  in  this  wilderness  time  seems  to  me  to  creep  along  fright- 
fully slow.  One  day  is  the  same  as  another,  and  I  often  feel 
as  if  life  were  standing  perfectly  still,  and  my  heart  pulses 
with  it.  What  should  I  be  without  your  house  and  the  chil- 
dren!— always  the  same  mountain,  the  same  palm-trees,  tint 
same  facefr^" 


49  HOMO    SUM. 

"But  the  mountain  is  glorious,  the  trees  are  beautitul!*' 
answered  Dorothea.  "  And  if  we  love  the  people  with  whom 
we  are  in  daily  intercourse,  even  here  we  may  be  contented 
and  happy.  At  least  we  ourselves  are,  so  far  as  the  .difficulties 
of  life  allow.     I  have  often  told  you  what  you  want  is  work. " 

"  Work!  but  for  whom?"  asked  Sirona.  "  If  indeed  I  had 
children  like  you!  Even  in  Eome  I  was  not  happy — far  from 
it;  and  yet  there  was  plenty  to  do  aud  to  think  about.  Here 
a  procession,  there  a  theater;  but  here!  And  for  whom  should 
I  dress  even?  My  jewels  grow  dull  in  my  chest,  and  tlie 
moths  eat  my  best  clothes.  I  am  making  dolFs  clothes  now 
of  my  colored  cloak  for  your  little  ones.  If  some  demon  were 
to  transform  me  into  a  hedge-hog  or  a  gray  owl,  it  would  be  all 
the  same  to  me. " 

"  Do  not  be  so  sinful,"  said  Dorothea,  gravely,  but  looking 
with  kindly  admiration  at  the  golden  hair  and  lovely  sweet  face 
of  the  young  woman.  "  It  ought  to  be  a  pleasure  to  you  to 
dressyourself  for  your  husband." 

"  For  him!"  said  Sirona.  "  He  never  looks  at  me,  or  if  he 
does  it  is  only  to  abuse  me.  The  only  wonder  to  me  is  that  I 
can  still  be  merry  at  all;  nor  am  I,  except  in  your  house,  and 
not  there  even  but  when  I  forget  him  altogether." 

"  I  will  not  hear  such  things  said — not  another  word,"  in- 
terrupted Dorothea,  severely.  "  Take  the  linen  and  the  cool- 
ing lotion,  Marthana;  we  will  go  and  bind  up  Anubis'o 
wound." 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

Petrus  went  up  the  mountain  side  with  Hermas.  The  old 
man  followed  the  youth,  who  showed  him  the  way,  and  as  he 
raised  his  eyes  from  time  to  time,  he  glanced  with  admiration 
at  his  guide's  broad  shoulders  and  elastic  limbs.  The  road 
grew  broader  when  it  reached  a  little  mountain  plateau,  and 
from  thence  the  two  men  walked  on  side  by  side,  but  for  some 
time  without  speaking,  till  the  senator  asked:  "  How  long  now 
has  your  father  lived  up  on  the  mountain?" 

'*  Many  years,"  answered  Hermas.  "But  I  do  not  know 
how  many — and  it  is  all  one.  No  one  inquires  about  time  up 
here  among  us. " 

"  You  have  been  with  your  father  ever  since  he  came?"  he 
9sked. 

"  He  never  lets  me  out  of  his  sight,"  replied  Hermas.  "  I 
tave  been  only  twico  into  the  oasis,  even  to  go  to  the  church." 

"  Then  you  have  been  to  no  school?" 


HOMO    SUM.  49 

"  To  what  school  should  I  go!  My  father  has  taught  me  to 
read  the  Gospels  and  I  could  write,  but  I  have  nearly  forgotten 
how.  Of  what  use  would  it  be  to  me?  We  Uve  like  praying 
beasts." 

Deep  bitterness  sounded  in  the  last  words,  and  Petrus  could 
see  into  the  troubled  spirit  of  his  companion,  overflowing  as  it 
was  with  weary  disgust,  and  he  perceived  how  the  active  powers 
of  youth  revolted  in  aversion  against  the  slothful  waste  of  life 
io  which  he  was  condemned.  He  was  grieved  for  the  boy, 
and  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  pass  by  those  in  peril  without 
helping  them.  Then  he  thought  of  his  own  sons,  who  had 
grown  up  in  the  exercise  and  fulfillment  of  serious  duties,  and 
he  owned  to  himself  that  the  fine  young  fellow  by  his  side  was 
in  no  way  their  inferior,  and  needed  nothing  but  to  be  guided 
aright.  He  thoughtfully  looked  first  at  the  youth  and  then 
on  the  ground,  and  muttered  unintelligible  words  into  his  gray 
beard  as  they  walked  along.  Suddenly  he  drew  himself  up 
and  nodded  decisively;  he  would  make  an  attempt  to  save 
Hermas;  and,  faithful  to  his  own  nature,  action  trod  on  the 
heels  of  resolve.  Where  the  Uttle  level  ended  the  road  divided; 
one  path  continued  to  lead  upward,  the  other  deviated  to  the 
valley  and  ended  at  the  quarries.  Petrus  was  for  taking  the 
latter,  but  Hermas  cried  out:  "  That  is  not  the  way  to  our 
cave;  you  must  foUow  me.'' 

"  Follow  thou  me!"  replied  the  senator,  and  the  words  were 
spoken  with  a  tone  and  expression  that  left  no  doubt  in  the 
youth's  mind  as  to  their  double  meaning.  "  The  day  is  yet 
before  us,  and  we  will  see  what  my  laborers  are  doing.  Do 
you  know  the  spot  where  they  (juarry  the  stone?" 

"  How  should  I  not  know  it?"  said  Hermas,  passing  the 
senator  to  lead  the  way.  "  I  know  every  path  from  our 
mountain  to  the  oasis  and  to  the  sea.  A  panther  had  its  lair 
in  the  ravine  behind  your  quarries." 

"  So  we  have  learned,"  said  Petrus.  "  The  thievish  beasts 
have  slaughtered  two  young  camels,  and  the  people  can  neither 
catch  them  in  their  toils  nor  run  them  down  with  dogs. " 

"  They  wiU  leave  you  in  peace  now,"  said  the  boy,  laugh- 
ing. "  I  brought  down  the  male  from  the  rock  up  there  with 
an  arrow,  and  I  found  the  mother  in  a  hollow  with  her  young 
ones.  I  had  a  harder  job  with  her;  my  knife  is  so  bad,  and 
the  copper  blade  bent  with  the  blow;  I  had  to  strangle  the 
gaudy  devU  with  my  bands,  and  she  tore  my  shoulder  and  bit 
my  arm.  Look!  there  are  the  scars.  But  thank  God,  my 
wounds  heal  quicker  than  my  father's.  Paulus  says  I  am  like 
an  earth-worm;  when  it  is  cut  in  two  the  two  halves  say  goo? 


44  HOMO    SUM. 

bye  to  each  other,  and  crawl  off  sound  and  gay,  one  one  way. 
and  the  other  another  way.  The  young  panthers  were  so 
funny  and  helpless  I  would  not  kill  them,  but  I  did  them  up 
in  my  sheep-skin  and  brought  them  to  my  father.  He 
laughed  at  the  little  beggars,  and  then  a  Nabatasan  took  them 
to  be  sold  at  Clysma  to  a  merchant  from  Rome.  There  and  at 
Byzantium  there  is  a  demand  for  all  kinds  of  living  beasts  of 
prey.  I  got  some  money  for  them,  and  for  the  skins  of  the 
old  ones,  and  kept  it  to  pay  for  my  journey  when  I  went  with 
the  others  to  Alexandria  to  ask  the  blessing  of  the  new 
Patriarch. " 

"  You  went  to  the  metropolis?"  asked  Petrus.  "  You  saw 
the  great  structures  that  secure  the  coast  from  the  inroads  of 
the  sea,  the  tall  Pharos  with  the  far-shining  fire,  the  strong 
bridges,  the  churches,  the  palaces  and  temples  with  their 
obelisks,  pillars,  and  beautiful  paved  courts?  Did  it  never 
enter  your  mind  to  think  that  it  would  be  a  proud  thing  to 
construct  such  buildings?" 

Hermas  shook  his  head.  "  Certainly  I  would  rather  live  in 
an  airy  house  with  colonnades  than  in  our  dingy  cavern,  but 
building  would  never  be  in  my  way.  What  a  long  time  it 
takes  to  put  one  stone  on  another!  I  am  not  patient,  and 
when  I  leave  my  father  I  will  do  something  that  shall  win  me 
fame.  But  there  are  the  quarries — "  Petrus  did  not  let  hie 
companion  finish  his  sentence,  but  interrupted  him  with  all 
the  warmth  of  youth,  exclaiming: 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  fame  can  not  be  won  by  the 
arts  of  building?  Look  there  at  the  blocks  and  flags,  here  at 
the  pillars  of  hard  stone.  These  are  all  to  be  sent  to  Aila, 
and  there  my  son  Antonius,  the  elder  of  the  two  that  you  saw 
just  now,  is  going  to  build  a  house  of  God,  with  strong  walls 
and  pillars,  much  larger  and  handsomer  than  the  church  in 
the  oasis,  and  that  is  his  work,  too.  He  is  not  much  older 
than  you  are,  and  already  he  is  famous  among  the  people  far 
and  wide.  Out  of  those  blocks  down  there  my  younger  son 
Polykarp  will  hew  noble  lions,  which  are  destined  to  decorate 
the  finest  building  in  the  capital  itself.  When  you  and  I  and 
all  that  are  now  living  shall  have  been  long  since  forgotten, 
still  it  will  be  said:  These  are  the  work  of  the  Master  Polykarp, 
the  son  of  Petrus,  the  Pharanite.  What  he  can  do  is  certainly 
s  thing  peculiar  to  himself.  No  one  who  is  not  one  of  the 
chosen  and  gifted  ones  can  say,  *  I  will  learn  to  do  that. '  But 
you  have  a  sound  understanding,  strong  hands  and  open  eyes, 
Jind  who  can  tell  what  else  there  is  hidden  in  you?  If  you 
could  begin  to  learn  soon  it  would  not  yet  be  too  late  to  make 


HOMO   SUM.  45 

ft  worthy  master  of  you,  but  of  course  he  who  would  rise  so 
high  must  not  be  afraid  of  work.  Is  your  mind  set  upon 
fame?  That  is  quite  right,  and  1  am  very  glad  of  it;  but  you 
must  know  that  he  who  would  gather  that  rare  fruit  must 
water  it,  as  a  noble  heathen  once  said,  with  the  sweat  of  his 
brow.  Without  trouble  and  labor  and  struggles  there  can 
be  no  victory,  and  men  rarely  earn  fame  without  fighting  for 
victory." 

The  old  man's  vehemence  was  contagious;  the  lad's  spirit 
was  roused,  and  he  exclaimed,  warmly: 

"  What  do  you  say — that  I  am  afraid  of  struggles  ajid 
trouble?  1  am  ready  to  stake  everything,  jpveii  my  life,  only 
to  win  fame.  But  to  measure  stone,  to  batter  defenseless 
blocks  with  a  mallet  and  chisel,  or  to  join  the  squares  with 
accurate  pains — that  does  not  tempt  me.  I  should  like  to  win 
the  wreath  in  the  Palaestra  by  flinging  the  strongest  to  the 
ground,  or  surpass  all  others  as  a  warrior  in  battler  my  father 
was  a  slodier,  too,  and  he  may  talk  as  much  as  he  will  of 
'  peace,'  and  nothing  but  '  peace,'  all  the  same  in  his 
dreams  he  speaks  of  bloody  strife  and  burning  wounds.  If 
you  only  cure  him  I  will  stay  no  longer  on  this  lonely  moun- 
tain, even  if  I  must  steal  away  in  secret.  For  what  did  God 
give  me  these  arms,  if  not  to  use  them?" 

Petrus  made  no  answer  to  these  words,  which  came  in  a 
stormy  flood  from  Hermas's  lips,  but  he  stroked  his  gray 
beard,  and  thought  to  himself:  "  The  young  of  the  cjigle  does 
not  catch  flies.  I  shall  never  win  over  this  soldier's  tun  to  our 
peaceful  handicraft,  but  he  shall  not  remain  on  the  mountain 
among  these  queer  sluggards,  for  there  he  is  being  ruined,  and 
yet  he  is  not  of  a  common  sort." 

When  he  had  given  a  few  orders  to  the  overseer  of  his  work- 
men, he  followed  the  young  man  to  see  his  suffering  father. 

It  was  now  some  hours  since  Her  mas  and  Paul  us  had  left 
the  wounded  anchorite,  and  he  still  lay  alone  in  his  cave.  The 
sun,  as  it  rose  higher  and  higher,  blazed  down  upon  the  rocks, 
which  began  to  radiate  their  heat,  and  the  hermit's  dwelling  was 
suffocatingly  hot.  Tl;3  pain  of  the  poor  man's  wound  in- 
creased, his  fever  was  ffPCfticr,  and  he  was  very  thirsty.  There 
stood  the  jug  which I'aalus  had  given  him,  but  it  was  long 
since  empty,  and  neither  Ptiulus  nor  Hermas  had  come  back. 
He  listened  anxiously  to  the  somids  in  the  distance,  and  fancied 
at  first  that  he  heard  the  Alexandrian's  footstep,  and  then  that 
he  heard  loud  words  and  suppressed  groans  coming  from  his 
cave.    Stephanus  tried  to  call  out,  but  he  himself  could  hardly 


46  HOMO    SUM. 

hear  the  feeble  sound,  which,  with  his  wounded  breast  and 
parched  mouth,  he  succeeded  in  uttering.  Then  he  fain  would 
nave  prayed,  but  fearful  mental  augmsh  disturbed  his  devo- 
tion. All  the  horrors  of  desertion  came  upon  him,  and  he  who 
had  lived  a  life  overflowing  with  action  and  enjoyment,  with 
disenchantment  and  satiety,  who  now  in  solitude  carried  on  an 
incessant  spiritual  struggle  for  the  highest  goal — this  man  felt 
himself  as  disconsolate  and  lonely  as  a  bewildered  child  that 
has  lost  its  mother. 

He  lay  on  his  bed  of  pain  softly  crying,  and  when  he  ob- 
served by  the  shadow  of  the  rock  that  the  sun  had  passed  its 
noonday  height,  indignation  and  bitter  feeling  were  added  to 
pain,  thirst,  and  weariness.  He  doubled  his  fists  and  mut- 
tered words  which  sounded  like  soldiers'  oaths,  and  with  them 
the  name  now  of  Paulus,  now  of  his  son.  At  last  anguish 
gained  the  upper-hand  of  his  anger,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as 
though  he  were  living  over  again  the  most  miserable  hour  of 
his  life,  an  hour  now  long  since  past  and  gone. 

He  thought  he  was  returning  from  a  noisy  banquet  in  the 
palace  of  the  Caesars.  His  slaves  had  taken  the  garlands  of 
roses  and  poplar  leaves  from  his  brow  and  breast,  and  robed 
him  in  his  night-dress;  now,  with  a  silver  lamp  in  his  hand 
he  was  approaching  his  bedroom,  and  he  smiled,  for  his 
young  wife  was  awaiting  him,  the  mother  of  his  Hermas. 
She  was  fair,  and  he  loved  her  well,  and  he  had  brought  home 
witty  sayings  to  repeat  to  her  from  the  table  of  the  emperor. 
He,  if  any  one,  had  a  right  to  smile.  Now  he  was  in  the 
anteroom,  in  which  two  slave-women  were  accustomed  to 
keep  watch;  he  found  only  one,  and  she  was  sleeping  and 
breathing  deeply;  he  still  smiled  as  he  threw  the  light  upon 
her  face — how  stupid  she  looked  with  her  mouth  open!  An 
alabaster  lamp  shed  a  dim  light  in  the  bedroom.  Softly  and 
still  smiling  he  went  up  to  Glycera's  ivory  couch,  and  held  up 
his  lamp,  and  stared  at  the  empty  and  undisturbed  bed — and 
the  smUe  faded  from  his  lips.  The  smile  of  that  evening 
came  back  to  him  no  more  through  all  the  long  years,  for 
Gl/cera  had  betrayed  him,  and  left  him — him  and  her  child. 
All  this  had  happened  twenty  years  since,  and  to-day  all  that 
he  had  then  felt  had  returned  to  him,  and  he  saw  his  wife's 
empty  couch  with  his  "  mind's  eye  "  as  plainly  as  he  had  then 
seen  it,  and  he  felt  as  lonely  and  as  miserable  as  in  that  night. 
But  now  a  shadow  appeared  before  the  opening  of  the  cave, 
and  he  breathed  a  deep  sigh  as  he  felt  himself  released  from 
the  hideous  vision,  for  he  had  recognized  Paulus,  who  came 
up  and  knelt  down  beside  him. 


HOMO    SUM.  47 

"  Water,  water!"  Stephanus  implored  in  a  low  voice,  and 
I*aulus,  who  was  cut  to  the  heart  by  the  moaning  of  the  old 
man,  which  he  had  not  heard  till  he  entered  the  cave,  seized 
the  pitcher.  He  looked  into  it,  and,  finding  it  quite  dry,  he 
rushed  down  to  the  spring  as  if  he  were  running  for  a  wager, 
filled  it  to  the  brim  and  brought  it  to  the  lips  of  the  sick  man, 
who  gulped  the  grateful  drink  down  witli  deep  draughts,  and 
at  last  exclaimed,  with  a  sigh  of  relief:  "  That  is  better;  why 
were  you  so  long  away?  I  was  so  thirsty!  '  Paulus,  who  had 
fallen  again  on  his  knees  by  the  old  man,  pressed  his  brow 
against  the  couch,  and  made  no  reply.  Stephanus  gazed  in 
astonishment  at  his  companion,  but  perceiving  that  he  was 
weeping  passionately  he  asked  no  further  questions.  Perfect 
stillness  reigned  in  the  cave  for  about  an  hour;  at  last  Paulus 
raised  his  lace,  and  said:  "  Forgive  me,  Stephanus.  I  forgot 
your  necessity  in  prayer  and  scourging,  in  order  to  recover  the 
peace  of  mind  I  had  trifled  away — no  heathen  would  have 
done  such  a  thing!"  The  sick  man  stroked  his  friend's  arm 
affectionately;  but  Paulus  murmured:  "Egoism,  miserable 
egoism  guides  and  governs  us.  Which  of  us  ever  thinks  of 
the  needs  of  others?  And  we — we  who  profess  to  walk  in  the 
way  of  the  Lamb!" 

He  sighed  deeply,  and  leaned  his  head  on  the  sick  man's 
breast,  who  lovingly  stroked  his  rough  hair,  and  it  was  thus 
that  the  senator  found  him  when  he  entered  the  cave  with 
Hermas. 

The  idle  way  of  life  of  the  anchorites  was  wholly  repulsive 
to  his  views  of  the  task  for  men  and  for  Christians,  but  he 
succored  those  whom  he  could,  and  made  no  inquiries  about 
the  condition  of  the  sufferer.  The  pathetic  union  in  which  he 
found  the  two  men  touched  his  heart,  and,  turning  to  Paulus, 
he  said,  kindly: 

"  I  can  leave  you  in  perfect  comfort,  for  you  seem  to  me  to 
have  a  faithful  nurse. " 

The  Alexandrian  reddened;  he  shook  his  head,  and  replied: 
"I?    I  thought  of  no  one  but  myself,  and  left  him  to  suffer 
and  thirst  in  neglect,  but  now  I  will  not  quit  him — no,  indeed, 
I  will  not,  and  by  God's  help  and  yours,  he  shall  recover." 

Petrus  gave  him  a  friendly  nod,  for  he  did  not  believe  in 
the  anchorite's  self-accusation,  though  he  did  in  his  good- will; 
and  before  he  left  the  cave  he  desired  Hermas  to  come  to  him 
early  on  the  following  day  to  give  him  news  of  his  father's 
state.  He  wished  not  only  to  cure  Stephanus,  but  to  continue 
his  relations  with  the  youth,  who  had  excited  his  interest  in 


48  HOMO    SUM. 

the  highest  degree,  and  he  liad  resolved  to  help  him  to  escape 
from  the  inactive  life  which  was  weighing  upon  him. 

Paulus  declined  to  share  the  simple  supper  that  the  father 
and  son  were  eating,  but  expressed  his  intention  of  remaining 
with  the  sick  man.  He  desired  Hermas  to  pass  the  night  in 
his  dwelling,  as  the  scanty  limits  of  the  cave  left  but  narrow 
room  for  the  lad. 

A  new  life  had  this  day  dawned  upon  the  young  man;  all 
the  grievances  and  desires  which  had  filled  his  soul  ever  since 
his  journey  to  Alexandria,  crowding  together  in  dull  confusion, 
luid  taken  form  and  color,  and  he  knew  now  that  he  could  not 
remain  an  anchorite,  but  must  try  his  over-abundant  strength 
in  real  life. 

"  My  father,"  thought  he,  "  was  a  warrior,  and  lived  in  a 
palace  before  he  retired  into  our  dingy  cave;  Paulus  was 
Menander,  and  to  this  day  has  not  forgotten  how  to  throw  the 
discus;  I  am  young,  strong,  and  free-born  as  they  were,  and 
Petrus  says  I  might  have  been  a  fine  man.  I  will  not  hew 
and  chisel  stones  like  his  sons,  but  Caesar  needs  soldiers,  and 
among  all  the  Amalekites,  nay,  among  the  Romans  in  the  oasis, 
I  saw  none  with  whom  I  might  not  match  myself." 

While  thus  he  thought  he  stretched  his  limbs  and  struck 
his  hands  on  his  broad  breast,  and  when  he  was  asleep  he 
dreamed  of  the  wrestling-school,  and  of  a  purple  robe  that 
Paulus  held  out  to  him,  of  a  wreath  of  poplar  leaves  that 
rested  on  his  scented  curls,  and  of  the  beautiful  woman  who 
had  met  him  on  the  stairs  of  the  senator's  house. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Thanks  to  the  senator's  potion,  Stephanus  soon  fell  asleep. 
Paulus  sat  near  him  and  did  not  stir;  he  held  his  breath,  and 
painfully  suppressed  even  an  impulse  to  cough,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
turb the  sick  man's  light  slumbers. 

An  hour  after  midnight  the  old  mail  awoke,  and  after  he 
had  lain  meditating  for  some  time  with  his  eyes  open,  he  saii., 
fhoughtfuUy: 

"  You  called  yourself  and  us  all  egotistic,  and  I  certainly 
am  so.  I  have  often  said  so  to  myself;  not  for  the  first  time 
to-day,  but  for  weeks  past,  since  Hermas  came  back  from 
Alexandria  and  seems  to  have  forgotten  how  to  laugh.  He  is 
not  happy,  and  when  I  aek  myself  what  is  to  become  of  him 
when  I  am  dead,  and  if  he  turns  from  the  Lord  and  seeks  the 
pleasures  of  tlie  world,  the  heart  sickens.  I  meant  it  for  the 
best  when  I  brought  him  with  me  up  to  the  Holy  Mountain, 


HOMO    SUM.  49 

but  that  was  not  the  only  motive — it  seemed  to  me  too  hard  to 
part  altogether  from  the  child.  My  God!  the  young  of  brutes 
are  secure  of  their  mother's  faithful  love,  and  liis  never  asked 
for  him  when  she  fled  from  my  house  with  her  seducer.  I 
thought  he  should  at  least  not  lose  his  father,  and  that  if  he 
grew  up  far  away  from  the  world  he  would  be  spared  all  the 
sorrow  that  it  had  so  profusely  heaped  upon  me.  I  would 
have  brought  him  up  tit  for  Heaven,  and  yet  through  a  life 
devoid  of  suffering.  And  now — and  now?  If  he  is  miserable 
it  will  be  through  me,  and  added  to  all  my  other  troubles 
comes  this  grief. " 

"You  have  sought  out  the  way  for  him,"  interrupted 
Paulus,  "  and  the  rest  will  be  sure  to  come;  he  loves  you  and 
will  certainly  not  leave  you  so  long  as  you  are  suffering. " 

"Certainly  not?"  asked  the  man,  sadly.  "And  what 
weapons  has  he  to  fight  through  life  with?" 

"  You  gave  him  the  Saviour  for  a  guide;  that  is  enough," 
said  Paulus,  soothingly.  "  There  is  no  smooth  road  from 
earth  to  Heaven,  and  none  can  win  salvation  for  another. " 

Stephanus  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  then  he  said: 

"  It  is  not  even  allowed  to  a  father  to  earn  the  wretched  ex- 
perience of  life  for  his  son,  or  to  a  teacher  for  his  pupil.  We 
may  point  out  the  goal,  but  the  way  thither  is  by  a  different 
road  for  each  of  us." 

"  And  we  may  thank  God  for  that,"  cried  Paulus.  "  For 
Hermas  has  been  started  on  the  road  which  you  and  I  had  first 
to  find  for  ourselves." 

"  You  and  I,"  repeated  the  sick  man,  thoughtfully.  "  Yes, 
each  of  us  has  sought  his  own  way,  but  has  inquired  only  which 
was  his  own  way,  and  has  never  concerned  himself  about  that 
of  the  other.  Self!  self  I  How  many  years  we  have  dwelt  close 
together,  and  I  have  never  felt  impelled  to  ask  you  what  you 
could  recall  to  mind  about  your  youth,  and  how  you  were  led 
to  grace.  I  learned  by  accident  that  you  were  an  Alexandrian, 
and  had  been  a  heathen,  and  had  suffered  much  for  the  faith, 
and  with  that  I  was  satisfied.  Indeed,  you  do  not  seem  very 
ready  to  speak  of  those  long  past  days.  Our  neighbor  should 
be  as  dear  to  us  as  ourself,  and  who  is  nearer  to  me  than  you? 
Ay,  self  and  selfishness!  There  are  many  gulfs  on  the  road 
toward  God." 

"I  have  not  much  to  tell,"  said  Paulus.  "But  a  man 
never  forgets  what  he  once  has  been.  We  may  cast  the  old 
man  from  us,  and  believe  we  have  shaken  ourselves  free,  when 
lo!  it  is  there  again  and  greets  us  as  an  old  acquaintance.     If 


50  HOMO   SUM. 

a  frog  only  once  comes  down  from  his  tree  he  hops  back  into 
the  pond  again. " 

"  It  is  true,  memory  can  never  die!"  cried  the  sick  man. 
"  I  can  not  sleep  uny  more;  tell  me  about  your  early  life  and 
how  you  became  a  Christian.  When  two  men  have  journeyed 
by  the  same  road,  and  the  moment  of  parting  is  at  hand,  they 
are  fain  to  ask  each  other's  name  and  where  they  came  from." 

Paulus  gazed  for  some  time  into  space,  and  then  he  began : 

"  The  companions  of  my  youth  called  me  Menander,  the  son 
of  Herophilus.  Besides  that,  I  know  for  certain  very  little  of 
my  youth,  for  as  I  have  already  told  you,  I  have  long  since 
ceased  to  allow  myself  to  think  of  the  world.  He  who  aban- 
dons a  thing,  but  clings  to  the  idea  of  the  thing,  continues — " 

"  That  sounds  like  Plato,"  said  Stephanus,  with  a  smile. 

"  All  that  heathen  farrago  comes  back  to  me  to-day,"  cried 
Paulus.  "  I  used  to  know  it  well,  and  I  have  often  thought 
that  his  face  must  have  resembled  that  of  the  Saviour. " 

"  But  only  as  a  beautiful  song  might  resemble  the  voice  of 
an  angel,"  said  Stephanus,  somewhat  dryly.  "He  who 
plunges  into  the  depths  of  philosophic  systems — " 

"  That  never  was  quite  my  case,"  said  Paulus.  "  I  did 
indeed  go  through  the  whole  educational  course;  grammar, 
rhetoric,  dialectic,  and  music — " 

"  And  arithmetic,  geometry,  and  astronomy,"  added  Ste- 
phanus. 

"  Those  were  left  to  the  learned  many  years  since,"  con- 
tinued Paulus,  "  and  I  was  never  very  eager  for  learning.  In 
the  school  of  rhetoric  I  remained  far  behind  my  fellows,  and  if 
Plato  was  dear  to  me  I  owe  it  to  Paedonomus  of  Athens,  a 
worthy  man  whom  my  father  engaged  to  teach  us.  " 

"  They  say  he  had  been  a  great  merchant,"  interrupted 
Stephanus.  "  Can  it  be  that  you  were  the  son  of  that  rich 
Herophilus,  whose  business  in  Antioch  was  conducted  by  the 
worthy  Jew  Urbib?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Paulus,  looking  down  at  the  ground 
in  some  confusion.  "  Our  mode  of  life  was  almost  royal,  and 
the  multitude  of  our  slaves  quite  sinful.  When  I  look  back 
on  all  the  vain  trifles  that  my  father  had  to  care  for,  I  feel 
quite  giddy.  Twenty  sea-going  ships  in  the  harbor  of  Eunos- 
tus,  and  eighty  Nile  boats  on  Lake  Mareotis  belonged  to  him. 
His  profits  on  the  manufacture  of  papyrus  might  have  main- 
tained a  city  full  of  poor.  But  we  needed  our  revenue  for 
other  things.  Our  Cyrasnian  horses  stood  in  marble  stalls, 
and  the  great  hall,  in  which  my  father's  friends  were  wont  to 
meet,  was  like  a  temple.     But  you  see  how  the  world  takes 


HOMO    SUM.  51 

)po8session  of  us  when  we  begin  to  think  about  it!  Rather  let 
us  leave  the  past  in  peace.  You  want  me  to  tell  you  more  of 
myself?  Well,  my  childhood  passed  like  that  of  a  thousand 
other  rich  citizens'  sons,  only  my  mother,  indeed,  was  excep- 
tionally beautiful  and  sweet,  and  of  angelic  goodness." 

"  Every  child  thinks  his  own  mother  the  best  of  mothers," 
murmured  the  sick  man. 

"  Mine  certainly  was  the  best  to  me,"  cried  Paulus.  "And 
yet  she  was  a  heathen.  When  my  father  hurt  me  with  severe 
svords  of  blame,  she  always  had  a  kind  word  and  loving  glance 
for  me.  There  was  little  enough,  indeed,  to  praise  in  me. 
Learning  was  utterly  distasteful  to  me,  and  even  if  I  had  done 
better  at  school,  it  would  hardly  have  counted  for  much  to 
my  credit,  for  my  brother  ApoUonius,  who  was  about  a  year 
younger  than  I,  learned  all  the  most  diflBcult  things  as  if  they 
were  mere  child's  play,  and  in  dialectic  exercises  there  soon 
was  no  rhetorician  in  Alexandria  who  could  compete  with  him. 
No  system  was  unknown  to  him,  and  though  no  one  ever  knew 
of  his  troubling  himself  particularly  to  study,  he  nevertheless 
was  master  of  many  departments  of  learning.  There  were  but 
two  things  in  which  I  could  beat  him — in  music  and  in  all 
athletic  exercises;  while  he  was  studying  and  disputing  I  was 
winning  garlands  in  the  palaestra.  But  at  that  time  the  best 
master  of  rhetoric  and  argument  was  the  best  man,  and  my 
father,  who  himself  could  shine  in  the  senate  as  an  ardent  and 
elegant  orator,  looked  upon  me  as  a  half  idiotic  ne'er-do-well, 
until  one  day  a  learned  client  of  our  house  presented  him  with 
a  pebble  on  which  was  carved  an  epigram  to  this  effect:  '  He 
who  would  see  the  noblest  gifts  of  the  Greek  race  should  visit 
the  house  of  Herophilus,  for  there  he  might  admire  strength 
and  vigor  of  body  in  Menander,  and  the  same  qualities  of  mind 
in  Apollonius. '  These  lines,  which  were  written  in  the  form 
of  a  lute,  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  gratified  my 
father's  ambition;  from  that  time  he  had  words  of  praise  for 
me  when  my  quadriga  won  the  race  in  the  Hippodrome,  or 
when  I  came  home  crowned  from  the  wrestling-ring  or  the 
singing-match.  My  whole  hfe  was  spent  in  the  baths  and  the 
palaestra,  or  in  gay  feasting." 

"  I  know  it  all,"  exclaimed  Stephanus,  interrupting  him, 
"  and  the  memory  of  it  all  often  disturbs  me.  Did  you  find  it 
easy  to  banish  these  images  from  your  mind?" 

"At  first  I  had  a  hard  fight,"  sighed  Paulus.  "But  for 
some  time  now,  since  I  have  passed  my  fortieth  year,  the 
temptations  of  the  world  torment  me  less  often.     Only  I  must 


52  HOMO   SUM. 

keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  carriers  who  bring  fish  from  the 
fishing  towns  on  the  sea,  and  from  Raithu  to  the  oasis. " 

Stephanus  looked  inquiringly  at  the  speaker,  and  Paulas 
went  on: 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  strange.  I  may  see  men  or  women — the 
sea  yonder  or  the  mountain  here,  without  ever  thinking  of 
Alexandria,  but  only  of  sacred  things;  but  when  the  savor  of 
fish  rises  up  to  my  nostrils  I  see  the  market  and  fish-stalls  and 
the  oysters — " 

"  Those  of  Kanopus  are  famous,''  interrupted  Stephanus; 
"  they  make  little  pasties  there — "  Paulus  passed  the  back  of 
his  hand  over  his  bearded  lips,  exclaiming:  "At  the  shop  of 
the  fat  cook — Philemon — in  the  street  of  Herakleotis. " 

But  he  broke  off,  and  cried,  with  an  impulse  of  shame:  "  It 
were  better  that  I  should  cease  telling  of  my  past  life.  The 
day  does  not  dawn  yet,  and  you  must  try  to  sleep," 

"  I  can  not  sleep,"  sighed  Stephanus;  "  if  you  love  me  go 
on  with  your  story." 

"  But  do  not  interrupt  me  again,  then,"  said  Paulus,  and 
he  went  on: 

"  With  all  this  gay  life  I  was  not  happy — by  no  means. 
When  I  was  alone  sometimes,  and  no  longer  sitting  in  the 
crowd  of  merry  boon  companions  and  complaisant  wenches, 
emptying  the  wine-cup  and  crowned  with  poplar,  I  often  felt 
as  if  I  were  walking  on  the  brink  of  a  dark  abyss — as  if  every- 
thing in  myself  and  around  me  were  utterly  hollow  and 
empty.  I  could  stand  gazing  for  hours  at  the  sea,  and  as  the 
waves  rose  only  to  sink  again  and  vanish.,  I  often  reflected  that 
I  was  like  them,  and  that  the  future  of  my  frivolous  present 
must  be  a  mere  empty  nothing.  Our  gods  were  of  little  ac- 
count with  us.  My  mother  sacrificed  now  in  one  temple,  and 
now  in  another,  according  to  the  needs  of  the  moment;  my 
father  took  part  in  the  high  festivals,  but  he  laughed  at  the 
belief  of  the  multitude,  and  my  brother  talked  of  the 
'  Primaeval  Unity,'  and  dealt  with  all  sorts  of  demons  and 
magic  formulas.  He  accepted  the  doctrine  of  lambliehus, 
Ablavius,  and  the  other  Neoplatonic  philosophers,  which  to 
my  poor  understanding  seemed  either  superhumanly  profound 
or  else  debasingly  foolish;  nevertheless  my  memory  retains 
many  of  his  sayings,  which  I  have  learned  to  understand  here 
in  my  loneliness.  It  is  vain  to  seek  reason  outside  ourselves; 
the  highest  to  which  we  can  attain  is  for  reason  to  behold  it- 
self in  us  I  As  often  as  the  world  sinks  into  nothingness  in 
my  soul,  and  I  live  in  God  only,  and  have  Him,  and  compre- 
hend him,  and  feel  Him  only — then  that  doctrine  recurs  to 


HOMO    SUM.  53 

me.  How  all  these  fools  sought  and  listened  everywhere  for 
the  truth  which  was  being  proclaimed  in  their  very  ears! 
There  were  Christians  everywhere  about  me,  and  at  that  time 
they  had  no  need  to  conceal  themselves,  but  I  had  nothing  to 
do  with  them.  Twice  only  did  they  cross  my  path;  once  I 
was  not  a  little  annoyed  when,  on  the  Hippodrome,  a  Christian's 
horses,  which  had  been  blessed  by  a  Nazarite,  beat  mine;  and 
on  another  occasion  it  seemed  strange  to  me  when  I  myself 
received  the  blessing  of  an  old  Christian  dock-laborer,  having 
pulled  his  son  out  of  the  water. 

"  Years  went  on;  my  parents  died.  My  mother's  last  glance 
was  directed  at  me,  for  I  had  always  been  her  favorite  child. 
They  said,  too,  that  I  was  like  her,  I  and  my  sister  Arsinoe, 
who,  soon  after  my  father's  death,  married  the  Prefect  Pom- 
pey.  At  the  division  of  the  property  I  gave  up  to  my  brother 
the  manufactories  and  the  management  of  the  business,  nay, 
even  the  house  in  the  city,  though,  as  the  elder  brother,  I  had 
a  right  to  it,  and  I  took  in  exchange  the  land  near  the  Kanopic 
gate,  and  filled  the  stables  there  with  splendid  horses,  and  the 
lofts  with  not  less  noble  wine.  This  I  needed,  because  I  gave 
up  the  days  to  baths  and  contests  in  the  arena,  and  the  nights 
to  feasting,  sometimes  at  my  own  house,  sometimes  at  a 
friend's,  and  sometimes  in  the  taverns  of  Kanopus,  where  the 
fairest  Greek  girls  seasoned  the  feasts  with  singing  and  danc- 
ing. What  have  these  details  of  the  vainest  worldly  pleasure 
^  to  do  with  my  conversion?  you  will  ask.  But  listen  awhile. 
When  Saul  went  forth  to  seek  his  father's  asses  he  found  a 
crown.  One  day  we  had  gone  out  in  our  gilded  boats,  and  the 
Lesbian  girl  Archidike  had  made  ready  a  feast  for  us  in  her 
house,  a  feast  such  as  could  scarcely  be  offered  even  in  Eome. 

"  Since  the  taking  of  our  city  by  Diocletian,  after  the  insur- 
rection of  Achilleus,  the  Imperial  troops  who  came  to  Alex- 
andria behaved  insolently  enough.  Between  some  of  my 
friends  and  certain  of  the  young  officers  of  Roman  patrician 
families  there  had  been  a  good  deal  of  rough  banter  for  some 
months  past,  as  to  their  horses,  women — I  know  not  what; 
and  it  happened  that  we  met  these  very  gentry  at  the  house  of 
Archidike.  Sharp  speeches  were  made,  which  the  soldiers  re- 
plied to  after  their  fashion,  and  at  last  they  came  to  insulting 
words  and  then  to  loud  threats.  The  Romans  left  the  house 
of  entertainment  before  we  did.  Crowned  with  garlands,  sing- 
ing, and  utterly  careless,  we  followed  soon  after  them,  and  had 
almost  reached  the  quay  when  a  noisy  troop  rushed  out  of  a 
side  street  and  fell  upon  us  with  naked  weapons.  The  moon 
was  high  in  the  heavens,  and  I  could  recognize  some  of  ovu 


54  HOMO    SUM. 

adversaries.  I  threw  myself  on  a  tall  tribune,  throttled  him, 
and,  as  h^  fell,  I  fell  with  him  in  the  dust;  I  am  but  dimlj 
conscious  of  what  followed,  for  sword-strokes  were  showered 
upon  me,  and  all  grew  black  before  my  eyes.  1  only  know 
what  I  thought  then,  face  to  face  with  death. " 

"  Well?"  asked  Stephanus. 

*  I  thought,"  said  Paulus,  reddening,  "  of  my  fighting- 
quails  at  Alexandria,  and  whether  they  had  had  any  water. 
Then  my  dull  heavy  unconciousness  increased;  for  weeks  I  lay 
in  that  state,  for  I  was  hacked  like  sausage  meat;  I  had  twelve 
wounds,  not  counting  the  slighter  ones,  and  any  one  else 
would  have  died  of  any  one  of  them.  You  have  often  won- 
dered at  my  scars." 

"  And  whom  did  the  Lord  choose,  then,  to  be  the  means  of 
your  salvation?" 

"  When  I  recovered  my  senses,"  continued  Paulus,  "  I  was 
lying  in  a  large,  clean  room  behind  a  curtain  of  light  material; 
I  could  not  raise  myself;  but,  just  as  if  I  had  been  sleeping  so 
many  minutes  instead  of  days,  I  thought  again  directly  of  my 
quails.  In  their  last  fight  my  best  cock  had  severely  handled 
handsome  Nikander's,  and  yet  he  wanted  to  dispute  the  stakes 
with  me,  but  I  would  assert  my  rights!  At  least  the  quails 
should  fight  again,  and  if  Nikander  should  refuse  I  would  force 
him  to  fight  me  with  his  fists  in  the  Palaestra,  and  give  him  a 
blue  reminder  of  his  debt  on  the  eye.  My  hands  were  still 
weak,  and  yet  I  clinched  them  as  I  thought  of  the  vexatious 
affair.  '  I  will  punish  him,'  I  muttered  to  myself.  Then  I 
heard  the  door  of  the  room  open,  and  1  saw  three  men  respect- 
fully approaching  a  fourth.  He  greeted  them  with  dignity, 
but  yet  with  friendliness,  and  rolled  up  a  scroll  which  he  had 
been  reading,  I  would  have  called  out,  but  I  could  not  open 
my  parched  lips,  and  yet  I  saw  and  heard  all  that  was  going 
on  around  me  in  the  room.  It  all  seemed  strange  enough  to 
me  then;  even  the  man's  mode  of  greeting  was  unusual.  I 
soon  perceived  that  he  who  sat  in  the  chair  was  a  judge,  and 
that  the  others  had  come  as  complainants;  they  were  all  three 
old  and  poor,  but  some  good  men  had  left  them  the  use  and 
interest  of  a  piece  of  land  During  seed-time  one  of  them,  a 
fine  old  man  with  lorg  white  hair,  had  been  ill,  and  he  had 
not  been  able  to  help  in  the  harvest  either;  '  and  now  they 
want  to  withhold  his  portion  of  the  corn,'  thought  I;  but  it 
was  quite  otherwise.  The  two  men  who  were  in  health  had 
taken  a  third  part  of  the  produce  to  the  house  of  the  sick 
man,  and  he  obstinately  refused  to  accept  the  corn  because  he 
had  helped  neither  to  sow  nor  to  reap  it,  and  he  demanded  of 


HOMO    SUM.  55 

the  judge  that  he  should  signify  to  the  other  two  that  he  had 
no  right  to  receive  goods  which  he  had  not  earned.  The  judge 
had  so  far  kept  silence.  But  he  now  raised  his  sagacious  and 
kindly  face  and  asked  the  old  man:  'Did  you  pray  for  your 
companions  and  for  the  increase  of  their  labors?' 

"  '  I  did/  replied  the  other. 

"  '  Then  by  your  intercession  you  helped  them/  the  judge 
decided,  '  and  the  third  part  of  the  produce  is  yours,  and  you 
must  keep  it. ' 

"  The  old  man  bowed,  the  three  men  shook  hands,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  judge  was  alone  in  the  room  again.  I  did  not 
know  what  had  come  over  me;  the  complaint  of  the  men  and 
the  decision  of  the  judge  seemed  to  me  senseless,  and  yet  both 
the  one  and  the  other  touched  my  heart.  I  went  to  sleep 
again,  and  when  I  awoke  refreshed  the  next  morning,  the  judge 
came  up  to  me  and  gave  me  medicine,  not  only  for  my  body, 
but  also  for  my  soul,  which  certainly  was  not  less  in  need  of 
it  than  my  poor  wounded  limbs." 

"  Who  was  the  judge?"  asked  Stephanus. 

"  Eusebius,  the  Presbyter  of  Kanopus.  Some  Christians 
had  found  me  half  dead  on  the  road,  and  had  carried  me  into 
his  house,  for  the  widow  Theodora,  his  sister,  was  the  deacon- 
ess of  the  town.  The  two  had  nursed  me  as  if  I  were  their 
dearest  brother.  It  was  not  till  I  grew  stronger  that  they 
showed  me  the  cross  and  the  crown  of  thorns  of  Him  who  for 
my  sake  also  had  taken  upon  Him  such  far  more  cruel  suffer- 
ing than  mine,  and  they  taught  me  to  love  His  wounds,  and 
to  bear  my  own  with  submission.  In  the  dry  wood  of  despair 
soon  budded  green  shoots  of  hope,  and  instead  of  annihilation 
at  the  end  of  this  life  they  showed  me  heaven  and  aU  its  joys. 
I  became  a  new  man,  and  before  me  there  lay  in  the  future  au 
eternal  and  blessed  existence;  after  this  life  I  now  learned  to 
look  forward  to  eternity.  The  gates  of  heaven  were  wide 
open  before  me,  and  I  was  baptized  at  Kanopus.  In  Alex- 
andria they  had  mourned  for  me  as  dead,  and  my  sister  Arsi- 
noe,  as  heiress  to  my  property,  had  already  moved  into  my 
country-house  with  her  husband,  the  prefect.  I  willingly  left 
her  there,  and  now  lived  again  in  the  city,  in  order  to  support 
the  brethren,  as  the  persecutions  had  begun  again.  This  was 
easy  for  me,  as  through  my  brother-in-law  I  could  visit  all  the 
prisons.  At  last  I  was  obliged  to  confess  the  faith,  and  I 
suffered  much  on  the  rack  and  in  the  porphyry  quarries;  but 
every  pain  was  dear  to  me,  for  it  seemed  to  bring  me  nearer 
to  the  goal  of  my  longings,  and  if  I  find  aught  to  complain  of 
ujp  here  on  the  holy  mountain,  it  is  only  that  the  Lord  deems 


56  HOMO    SUM. 

me  unworthy  to  suffer  harder  things,  when  His  beloved  and 
only  Son  took  such  bitter  torments  on  himself  for  me  and  for 
every  wretched  sinner." 

"Ah!  saintly  man!"  murmured  Stephanus,  devoutly  kiss- 
ing Paulus's  sheep-skin;  but  Paulus  pulled  it  from  him,  ex- 
claiming, hastily: 

"  Cease,  pray  cease — he  who  approaches  me  with  honors 
now  in  this  life  throws  a  rock  in  my  way  to  the  life  of  the 
blessed.  Now  I  will  go  to  the  spring  and  fetch  you  some 
fresh  water. ' ' 

When  Paulus  returned  with  the  water-jar  he  found  Hermas, 
who  had  come  to  wish  his  father  good-morning  before  he  went 
down  to  the  oasis  to  fetch  some  new  medicine  from  the  senator. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SiRONA  was  sitting  at  the  open  window  of  her  bedroom, 
having  her  hair  arranged  by  a  black  woman  that  her  husband 
had  bought  in  Kome.  She  sighed,  while  the  slave  lightly 
touched  the  shining  tresses  here  and  there  with  perfumed  oil 
which  she  had  poured  into  the  palm  of  her  hand;  then  she 
firmly  grasped  the  long  thick  waving  mass  of  golden  hair  and 
was  parting  it  to  make  a  plait,  when  Sirona  stopped  her,  say- 
'ng:  "Give  me  the  mirror. '' 

For  some  minutes  she  looked  with  a  melancholy  gaze  at  the 
image  in  the  polished  metal,  then  she  sighed  again;  she  picked 
up  the  little  greyhound  that  lay  at  her  feet,  and  placing  it  m 
her  lap,  showed  the  animal  its  image  in  the  mirror. 

"  There,  poor  lambe,"  she  said;  "if  we  two,  inside  these 
four  walls,  want  to  see  anything  like  a  pleasing  sight  we  must 
look  at  ourselves." 

Then  she  went  on,  turning  to  the  slave:  "  How  the  poor 
little  beast  trembles!  I  believe  it  longs  to  be  back  again  at 
Arelas,  and  is  afraid  we  shall  linger  too  long  under  this  burn- 
ing sky.     Give  me  my  sandals." 

The  black  woman  reached  her  mistress  two  little  slippers 
with  gilt  ornaments  on  the  slight  straps,  but  Sirona  flung  her 
hair  oif  her  face  with  the  back  of  her  hand,  exclaiming:  "  The 
old  ones,  not  these.     Wooden  shoes  even  would  do  here." 

And  with  these  words  she  pointed  to  the  court-yard  under 
the  window,  which  was  in  fact  as  ill-contrived  as  though  gilt 
sandals  had  never  yet  trodden  it.  It  was  surrounded  by  build- 
ings; on  one  side  was  a  wall  with  a  gate-way,  and  on  the  other 
buildings  which  formed  a  sharply  bent  horseshoe. 

Opposite  the  wing  in  which  Siroua  and  her  husband  had 


HOMO    SUM.  57 

found  a  home  stood  the  much  higher  house  of  Petrus,  and  both 
had  attached  to  them,  iu  the  background  of  the  court-yard, 
sheds  constructed  of  rough  reddish-brown  stones,  and  covered 
with  a  thatch  of  palm  branches;  in  these  agricultural  imple- 
ments were  stored,  and  the  senator's  slaves  lived.  In  front 
lay  a  heap  of  black  charcoal,  which  was  made  on  the  s])ot  by 
burning  the  wood  of  the  thorny  sajal — a  species  of  acacia;  and 
there,  too,  lay  a  goodly  row  of  well-smoothed  mill-stones, 
which  were  shaped  in  the  quarry  and  exported  to  Egypt.  At 
this  early  hour  the  whole  unlovely  domain  lay  in  deep  shadow, 
and  was  crowded  with  fowls  and  pigeons.  Sirona's  window 
alone  was  touched  by  the  morning  sun.  If  she  could  have 
known  what  a  charm  the  golden  light  shed  over  her  figure,  on 
her  rose  and  white  face,  and  her  shining  hair,  she  would  have 
welcomed  the  day-star  instead  of  complaining  that  it  had  too 
early  waked  her  from  sleep — her  best  comfort  in  her  solitude. 

Besides  a  few  adjoining  rooms,  she  was  mistress  of  a  larger 
room,  the  dwelling-room,  which  looked  out  upon  the  street. 

She  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand,  exclaiming:  "  OhI  the 
wearisome  sun.  It  looks  at  us  the  first  thing  in  the  morning 
through  the  window,  as  if  the  day  were  not  long  enough.  The 
beds  must  be  put  in  the  front  room,  I  insist  upon  it." 

The  slave  shook  her  head,  and  stammered  an  answer: 
"  Phoebicius  will  not  have  it  so. " 

Sirona's  eyes  flashed  angrily,  and  her  voice,  which  was  par- 
ticularly sweet,  trembled  slightly  as  she  asked:  "What  is 
wrong  with  him  again?" 

"  He  says,"  rephed  the  slave,  "  that  the  senator's  son, 
Polykarp,  goes  oftener  past  your  window  than  altogether 
pleases  him.,  and  it  seems  to  him  that  you  occupy  yourself 
more  than  is  necessary  with  his  little  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
the  other  children  up  there." 

"Is  he  still  in  there?"  asked  Sirona,  with  glowing  cheeks, 
and  she  pointed  threateningly  to  the  dwelling-room. 

"  The  master  is  out,"  stuttered  the  old  woman.  "  He 
went  out  before  smirise.  You  are  not  to  wait  for  breakfast; 
he  will  not  return  till  late. " 

The  Gaulish  lady  made  no  answer,  but  her  head  fell,  and 
the  deepest  melancholy  overspread  her  features. 

The  greyhound  seemed  to  feel  for  the  troubles  of  his  mis- 
tress, for  he  fawned  upon  her,  as  if  to  kiss  her.  The  solitary 
woman  pressed  the  little  creature,  which  had  come  with  her 
from  her  home,  closely  to  her  bosom ;  for  an  unwonted  sense 
of  wretchedness  weighed  upon  her  heart,  and  she  felt  as  lonely, 
friendless,  and  abandoned  as  if  she  were  driving  alone — alone 


68  HOMO    SUM. 

— over  a  wide  and  shoreless  sea.  She  shuddered,  as  if  she 
were  cold — for  she  thought  of  her  husband,  the  man  who  here 
in  the  desert  should  have  been  all  in  all  to  her,  but  whose 
presence  filled  her  with  aversion,  whose  indifference  had  ceased 
to  wound  her,  and  whose  tenderness  she  feared  far  more  than 
his  wild  irritability — she  had  never  loved  him. 

She  had  grown  up  free  from  care  among  a  number  of 
brothers  and  sisters.  Her  father  had  been  the  chief  account- 
ant of  the  decurions'  college  in  his  native  town,  and  he  had 
lived  opposite  the  circus,  where,  being  of  a  stern  temper,  he  had 
never  permitted  his  daughters  to  look  on  at  the  games;  but  he 
could  not  prevent  their  seeing  the  crowd  streaming  into  the 
amphitheater,  or  hearing  their  shouts  of  delight,  and  their 
eager  cries  of  approbation. 

Sirona  thus  grew  up  in  the  presence  of  other  people's  pleas- 
ure, and  in  a  constantly  revived  and  never  satisfied  longing  to 
share  it;  she  had,  indeed,  no  time  for  unnnecessary  occupa- 
tions, for  her  mother  died  before  she  was  fully  grown  up,  and 
she  was  compelled  to  take  charge  of  the  eight  younger  chil- 
dren. This  she  did  in  all  fidelity,  but  in  her  hours  of  leisure 
she  loved  to  listen  to  the  stories  told  her  by  the  wives  of  offi- 
cials who  had  seen  and  could  praise  the  splendors  of  Rome  the 
golden. 

She  knew  that  she  was  fair,  for  she  need  only  go  outside  the 
house  to  hear  it  said;  but  though  she  longed  to  see  the  capital, 
it  was  not  for  the  sake  of  being  admired,  but  because  there 
was  there  so  much  that  was  splendid  to  see  and  to  admire.  So, 
when  the  Centurion  Phcebicius,  the  commandant  of  the  gar- 
rison of  her  native  tovm,  was  transferred  to  Eome,  and  when 
he  desired  to  take  the  seventeen-years-old  girl  with  him  to  the 
Imperial  City  as  his  wife — she  was  more  than  forty  years 
younger  than  he — she  followed  him  full  of  hope  and  eager 
anticipation. 

Not  long  after  their  marriage  she  started  for  Eome  by  sea 
from  Massilia,  accompanied  by  an  old  relative;  and  he  went 
by  land  at  the  head  of  his  cohorts. 

She  reached  their  destination  long  before  her  husband,  and 
without  waiting  for  him,  but  constantly  in  the  society  of  her 
old  duenna,  she  gave  herself  up  with  the  freedom  and  eager- 
ness of  her  fresh  youth  to  the  delights  of  seeing  and  admiring. 

It  did  not  escape  her,  while  she  did  so,  that  she  attracted  all  • 
eyes  wherever  she  went,  and  however  much  this  flattered  and 
pleased  her  at  first,  it  spoiled  many  of  her  pleasures  when  the 
Komans,  young  and  old,  began  to  follow  and  rourt  her.     At 
last  Phcebicius  arrived,  and  when  he  found  hi&  houaa  crowded 


HOMO   SUM.  59 

with  his  wife's  admirers  he  behaved  to  Sirona  as  though  sh« 
had  long  since  betrayed  his  honor. 

Nevertheless,  he  dragged  her  from  pleasure  to  pleasure,  and 
from  one  spectacle  to  another,  for  it  gratified  him  to  show 
himself  in  public  with  his  beautiful  young  wife.  She  certainly 
was  not  free  from  frivolity,  but  she  had  learned  early  from  her 
strict  father,  as  being  the  guide  of  her  younger  sisters,  to  dis- 
tinguish clearly  right  from  wrong,  and  the  pure  from  the  un- 
clean; and  she  soon  discovered  that  the  joys  of  the  capital, 
which  had  seemed  at  first  to  be  gay  flowers  with  bright  colors, 
and  redolent  with  intoxicating  perfume,  bloomed  on  the  sur- 
face of  a  foul  bog. 

She  at  first  had  contemplated  all  that  was  beautiful  and  pleas- 
ant with  characteristic  delight;  but  her  husband  took  pleasure 
only  in  things  which  revolted  her  as  being  common  and 
abominable.  He  watched  her  every  glance,  and  yet  he  pointed 
nothing  out  to  her  but  what  was  hurtful  to  the  feelings  of  a 
pure  woman.  Pleasure  became  her  torment,  for  the  sweetest 
wine  is  repulsive  when  it  has  been  tasted  by  impure  lips. 
After  every  feast  and  spectacle  he  loaded  her  with  outrageous 
reproaches,  and  when  at  last,  weary  of  such  treatment,  she 
refused  to  quit  the  house,  he  obliged  her,  nevertheless,  to  ac- 
company him  as  often  as  the  Legate  QuintUlus  desired  it. 
The  legate  was  his  superior  ofiicer,  and  he  sent  her  every  day 
some  present  of  flowers. 

Up  to  this  time  she  had  borne  with  him,  and  had  tried  to 
excuse  him,  and  to  think  herself  answerable  for  much  of  what 
she  endured.  But  at  last — about  ten  months  after  her  mar- 
riage— something  occurred  between  her  and  Phoebicius — some- 
thing which  stood  like  a  wall  of  brass  between  him  and  her; 
and  as  this  something  had  led  to  his  banishment  to  the  remote 
oasis,  and  to  liis  degradation  to  the  rank  of  captain  of  a  miser- 
able maniple,  instead  of  his  obtaining  his  hoped-for  promotion, 
he  began  to  torment  her  systematically  while  she  tried  to  pro- 
tect herself  by  icy  coldness;  so  that  at  last  it  came  to  this,  that 
the  husband,  for  whom  she  felt  nothing  but  contempt,  had  no 
more  influence  on  her  life  than  some  physical  pain  which  a 
sick  man  is  doomed  to  endure  all  through  his  existence. 

In  his  presence  she  was  silent,  defiant  and  repellent,  but  as 
soon  as  he  quitted  her,  her  innate  warm-hearted  kindliness 
and  child-like  merriment  woke  up  to  new  life,  and  their  fairest 
blossoms  opened  out  in  the  senator's  house  among  the  little 
troop  who  amply  repaid  her  love  with  theirs. 

Phoebicius  belonged  to  the  worshipers  of  Mithras,  and  ho 
often  fasted  in  his  honor  to  the  point  of  exhaustion,  while  on 


60  HOMO    SUM. 

the  other  hand  he  frequently  drank  with  his  boon  companions 
at  the  feasts  of  the  god  till  he  was  in  a  state  of  insensibility. 

Here  even,  in  Mount  Sinai,  he  had  prepared  a  grotto  for  the 
feast  of  Mithras,  had  gathered  together  a  few  companions  in 
his  faith,  and  when  it  happened  that  he  remained  out  all  day 
and  all  night,  and  came  home  paler  even  than  usual,  she  well 
knew  where  he  had  been. 

Just  now  she  vividly  pictured  to  herself  the  person  of  this 
man,  with  his  eyes  that  now  were  dull  with  sleep  and  now 
glowed  with  rage,  and  she  asked  herself  whether  it  were  indeed 
possible  that  of  her  own  free  will  she  had  chosen  to  become  his 
wife.  Her  bosom  heaved  with  quicker  breathing  as  she  re- 
membered the  ignominy  he  had  subjected  her  to  in  Eome,  and 
she  clinched  her  small  hands.  At  this  instant  the  little  dog 
sprung  from  her  lap  and  flew  barking  to  the  window-sill;  she 
was  easily  startled,  and  she  drew  on  her  morning-gown,  which 
had  slipped  from  her  white  shoulders;  then  she  fastened  th(« 
straps  of  her  sandals,  and  went  to  look  down  into  the  court . 
yard. 

A  smile  played  upon  her  lips  as  she  perceived  young  Her- 
mas,  who  had  already  been  for  some  time  leaning  motionless 
against  the  wall  of  the  house  opposite,  and  devouring  with  his 
gaze  the  figure  of  the  beautiful  young  woman.  She  had  a 
facile  and  volatile  nature.  Like  the  eye  which  retains  no  im- 
pression of  the  disabling  darkness  so  soon  as  the  rays  of  light 
nave  fallen  on  it,  no  gloom  of  suffering  touched  her  so  deeply 
that  the  lightest  breath  of  a  new  pleasure  could  not  blow  her 
troubles  to  the  winds.  Many  rivers  are  quite  different  in  color 
at  their  source  and  at  their  mouth,  and  so  it  was  often  with 
her  tears;  she  began  to  weep  for  sorrow,  and  then  found  it 
difficult  to  dry  her  eyes  for  sheer  overflow  of  mirth.  It  would 
have  been  so  easy  for  Phoebicius  to  make  her  lot  a  fair  one! 
for  she  hiul  a  most  susceptible  heart,  and  was  grateful  for  the 
smallest  proofs  of  love.  But  between  him  and  her  every  bond 
was  broken. 

The  form  and  face  of  Hermas  took  her  fancy;  she  thought 
he  looked  of  noble  birth  in  spite  of  his  poor  clothing,  and  when 
she  observed  that  his  cheeks  were  glowing,  and  that  the  hand 
in  which  he  held  the  medicine  vial  trembled,  she  understood 
that  he  was  watching  her,  and  that  the  sight  of  her  had  stirred 
his  youthful  blood.  A  woman — still  more,  a  woman  who  is 
pleased  to  please — forgives  any  sin  that  is  committed  for  her 
beauty's  sake,  and  Sirona's  voice  had  a  friendly  ring  in  it  as 
she  bade  Hermas  good-morning  and  asked  him  how  his  father 
was,  and  whether  the  senator's  medicine  had  been  of  service. 


HOMO    SUM.  61 

The  youth's  answers  were  short  and  confused,  but  his  looks 
betrayed  that  he  would  fain  have  said  quite  other  things  than 
those  which  his  indocile  tongue  allowed  him  to  reiterate 
timidly. 

"  Dame  Dorothea  was  telling  me  last  evening,"  she  said 
kindly,  "  that  Petrus  had  every  hope  of  your  father's  recovery, 
but  that  he  is  still  very  weak.  Perhaps  some  good  wine  would 
be  of  service  to  him — not  to-day  but  to-morrow  or  the  day 
after.  Only  come  to  me  if  you  need  it;  we  have  some  old 
Falemian  in  the  loft,  and  Avhite  Mareotis  wine,  which  is  par- 
ticularly good  and  wholesome. " 

Hermas  thanked  her,  and  as  she  still  urged  him  to  apply  to 
her  in  all  confidence,  he  took  courage  and  succeeded  in  stam- 
mering rather  than  saying:  "  You  are  as  good  as  you  ar** 
beautiful." 

The  words  were  hardly  spoken  when  the  topmost  stone  of 
an  elaborately  constructed  pile  near  the  slaves'  house  fell  down 
with  a  loud  clatter.  Sirona  started  and  drew  back  from  the 
window,  the  greyhound  set  up  a  loud  barking,  and  Hermas 
struck  his  forehead  with  his  hand  as  if  he  were  roused  from  a 
dream. 

In  a  few  instants  he  had  knocked  at  the  senator's  door; 
hardly  had  he  entered  the  house  when  Miriam's  slight  form 
passed  across  behind  the  pile  of  stones,  and  vanished  swiftlj' 
and  silently  into  the  slaves'  quarters.  These  were  by  this  time 
deserted  by  their  inhabitants,  who  were  busy  in  the  field,  the 
house,  or  the  quarries;  they  consisted  of  a  few  ill-lighted  rooms 
with  bare,  unfinished  walls. 

The  shepherdess  went  into  the  smallest,  where,  on  a  bed  of 
palm-sticks,  lay  the  slave  that  she  had  wounded,  and  who 
turned  over  as  with  a  hasty  hand  she  promptly  laid  a  fresh  but 
ill-folded  bandage  all  askew  on  the  deep  wound  in  his  head. 
As  soon  as  this  task  was  fulfilled  she  left  the  room  again, 
placed  herself  behind  the  half-open  door  which  led  into  the 
court-yard,  and,  pressing  her  brow  against  the  stone  door-post, 
looked  first  at  the  senator's  house  and  then  at  Sirona's  win- 
dow, while  her  breath  came  faster  and  faster. 

A  new  and  violent  emotion  was  stirring  her  young  soul;  not 
many  minutes  since  she  had  squatted  peacefully  on  the  ground 
by  the  side  of  the  wounded  man,  with  her  head  resting  on  her 
hand  and  thinking  of  her  goats  on  the  mountain.  Then  she 
had  heard  a  slight  sound  in  the  courts  which  any  one  else 
would  not  have  noticed;  but  she  not  only  perceived  it,  but 
knew  with  perfect  certainty  with  whom  it  originated.  She 
could  never  fail  to  recognize  Hermae's  footstep,  and  it  had  an 


63  HOMO    SUM. 

irresistible  effect  upon  her.  She  raised  her  head  quickly  from 
her  hand  and  her  elbow  from  the  knee  on  which  it  was  resting, 
sprung  to  her  feet  and  went  out  into  the  yard.  She  was  hid- 
den by  the  mill-stones,  but  she  could  see  Hermas  lost  in  ad 
miration.  She  followed  the  direction  of  his  eyes  and  saw  the 
same  imago  which  had  fascinated  his  gaze — Sirona's  lovely 
form,  flooded  with  sunh'ght.  She  looked  as  if  formed  out  of 
snow,  and  roses,  and  gold,  like  the  angel  at  the  sepulcher  in 
the  new  picture  in  the  church.  Yes,  just  like  the  angel,  and 
the  thought  flew  through  her  mind  how  brown  and  black  she 
was  herself,  and  that  he  had  called  her  a  she-devil.  A  sense  of 
deep  pain  came  over  her;  she  felt  as  though  paralyzed  in  body 
and  soul;  but  soon  she  shook  off  the  spell,  and  her  heart  began 
to  beat  violently;  she  had  to  bite  her  lip  hard  with  her  white 
teeth  to  keep  herself  from  crying  out  with  rage  and  anguisL 

How  she  wished  she  could  swing  herself  up  to  the  window  on 
which  Hermas 's  gaze  was  fixed,  and  clutch  Sirona's  golden  hair 
and  tear  her  down  to  the  ground,  and  suck  the  very  blood 
from  her  red  lips  like  a  vampire,  till  she  lay  at  her  feet  as  pale 
as  the  corpse  of  a  man  dead  of  thirst  in  the  desert.  Then  she 
saw  the  light  mantle  slip  from  Sirona's  shoulders,  and  observed 
Hermas  start  and  press  his  hand  to  his  heart. 

Then  another  impulse  seized  her.  It  was  to  call  to  her  and 
warn  her  of  his  presence;  for  even  women  who  hate  each  other 
hold  out  the  hand  of  fellowship  in  the  spirit  when  the  sanctity 
of  woman's  modesty  is  threatened  with  danger.  She  blushed 
for  Sirona,  and  had  actually  opened  her  Ups  to  call  when  the 
greyhound  barked  and  the  dialogue  began.  Not  a  word  es- 
caped her  sharp  ears,  and  when  she  told  Sirona  that  she  was  as 
good  as  she  was  beautiful  she  felt  seized  with  giddiness;  then 
the  topmost  stone,  by  which  she  had  tried  to  steady  herself, 
lost  its  balance,  its  fall  interrupted  their  conversation,  and 
Miriam  returned  to  the  sick  man. 

Now  she  was  standing  at  the  door,  waiting  for  Hermas. 
Long,  long  did  she  wait;  at  last  he  appeared  with  Dorothea, 
and  she  could  see  that  he  glanced  up  again  at  Sirona;  but  a 
spiteful  smile  passed  over  her  lips,  for  the  window  was  empty 
and  the  fair  form  that  he  had  hoped  to  see  again  had  vanished. 

Sirona  was  now  sitting  at  her  loom  in  the  front  room, 
whither  she  had  been  tempted  by  the  sound  of  approaching 
hoofs.  Polykarp  had  ridden  by  on  his  father's  fine  horse,  had 
greeted  her  as  he  passed,  and  had  dropped  a  rose  on  the  road- 
way. Half  an  hour  later  the  old  black  slave  came  to  Sirona, 
who  was  throwing  the  shuttle  through  the  warp  with  a  skillful 
hand. 


HOMO    SUM.  63 

"  Mistress!'*  cried  the  negress  with  a  hideous  grin;  the  lone- 
ly woman  paused  in  her  work,  and  as  she  looked  up  inquiringly 
the  old  woman  gave  her  a  rose.  Sirona  took  the  flower,  blew 
away  the  road-side  dust  that  had  clung  to  it,  rearranged  the 
tumbled  delicate  petals  with  her  finger-tips,  and  said,  while  she 
seemed  to  give  the  best  part  of  her  attention  to  this  occupa- 
tion: 

"For  the  future  let  roses  lie  when  you  find  them.  You 
know  Phoebicius,  and  if  any  one  sees  it,  it  will  be  talked 
about. " 

The  black  woman  turned  away,  shrugging  her  shoulders; 
but  Sirona  thought:  "  Polykarp  is  a  handsome  and  charming 
man,  and  has  finer  and  more  expressive  eyes  than  any  other 
here,  if  he  were  not  always  talking  of  his  plans,  and  drawings, 
and  figures,  and  mere  stupid  grave  things  that  I  do  not  care 
for!" 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  next  day,  after  the  sun  had  passed  the  meridian  and  it 
was  beginning  to  grow  cool,  Hermas  and  Paulus  yielded  to 
Stephanus's  wish,  as  he  began  to  feel  stronger,  and  carried  him 
out  into  the  air.  The  anchorites  sat  near  each  other  on  a  low 
block  of  stone,  which  Hermas  had  made  into  a  soft  couch  for 
his  father  by  heaping  up  a  high  pile  of  fresh  herbs.  They 
looked  after  the  youth,  who  had  taken  his  bow  and  arrows,  as 
he  went  up  the  mountain  to  hunt  a  wild  goat;  for  Petrus  had 
prescribed  a  strengthening  diet  for  the  sick  man.  Not  a  word 
was  spoken  by  either  of  them  till  the  hunter  had  disappeared. 
Then  Stephanus  said: 

"  How  much  he  has  altered  since  I  have  been  ill.  It  is  not 
eo  very  long  since  I  last  saw  him  by  the  broad  light  of  day,  and 
he  seems  meantime  to  have  grown  from  a  boy  into  a  man. 
How  self-possessed  his  gait  is." 

Paulus,  looking  down  at  the  ground,  muttered  some  words 
of  assent.  He  remembered  the  discus-throwing  and  thought 
to  himself:  "  The  Palaestra  certainly  sticks  in  his  mind,  and 
he  has  been  bathing,  too;  and  yesterday,  when  he  came  up 
from  the  oasis,  he  strode  in  like  a  young  athlete. " 

That  friendship  only  is  indeed  genuine  when  two  friends, 
without  speaking  a  word  to  each  other,  can  nevertheless  find 
happiness  in  being  together.  Stephanus  and  Paulus  were 
silent,  and  yet  a  tacit  intercourse  subsisted  between  them  as 
they  sat  gazing  toward  the  west,  where  the  sun  was  near  its 
aetting. 


64  HOMO    SUM. 

Far  below  them  gleamed  the  narrow,  dark  blue-green  streak 
of  the  Ked  Sea,  bounded  by  the  bare  mountains  of  the  coast 
which  shone  in  a  shimmer  of  golden  light.  Close  beside  them 
rose  the  toothed  crown  of  the  great  mountain  which,  as  soon 
as  the  day-star  had  sunk  behind  it,  appeared  edged  with  a  rib- 
bon of  glowing  rubies.  The  flaming  glow  flooded  the  western 
horizon,  filmy  veils  of  mist  floated  across  the  hilly  coast-line, 
the  silver  clouds  against  the  pure  sky  changed  their  hue  to  the 
tender  blush  of  a  newly  opened  rose,  and  the  undulating  shore 
floated  in  the  translucent  violet  of  the  amethyst.  There  not  a 
breath  of  air  was  stirring,  not  a  sound  broke  the  solemn  still- 
ness of  the  evening.  Not  till  the  sea  was  taking  a  darker  and 
still  darker  hue,  till  the  glow  on  the  mountain  peaks  and  in 
the  west  had  begun  to  die  away,  and  the  night  to  spread  its 
shades  over  the  heights  and  hollows,  did  Stephanus  unclasp  his 
folded  hands  and  softly  speak  his  companion's  name.  Paulua 
started  and  said,  speaking  like  a  man  who  is  aroused  from  a 
dream  and  who  is  suddenly  conscious  of  having  heard  some 
one  speak:  "  You  are  right;  it  is  growing  dark  and  cool,  and 
you  must  go  back  into  the  cave.^' 

Stephanus  offered  no  opposition  and  let  himself  be  led  back 
to  his  bed;  while  Paul  us  was  spreading  the  sheep-skin  over  the 
sick  man  he  sighed  deeply. 

"  What  disturbs  your  soul?*'  asked  the  older  man. 

"  It  is — it  was — what  good  can  it  do  me!"  cried  Paulus,  in 
strong  excitement.  "  There  we  sat,  witnesses  of  the  most 
glorious  marvels  of  the  Most  High,  and  I,  in  shameless  idolatry, 
seemed  to  see  before  me  the  chariot  of  Helios  with  its  glorious 
winged  horses,  snorting  fire  as  they  went,  and  Helios  himself 
in  the  guise  of  Hermas  with  gleaming  golden  hair,  and  the 
dancing  hourls,  and  the  golden  gates  of  the  night.  Accursed 
rabble  of  demons — " 

At  this  point  the  anchorite  was  interrupted,  for  Hermas  en- 
tered the  cave,  and  laying  a  young  steinbock  that  he  had  killed 
before  the  two  men,  exclaimed:  "A  fine  fellow,  and  he  cost 
^e  no  more  than  one  arrow.  I  will  light  a  fire  at  once  and 
roast  the  best  pieces.  There  are  plenty  of  bucks  still  on  our 
mountain,  and  I  know  where  to  find  them.'* 

In  about  an  hour  father  and  son  were  eating  the  pieces 
of  meat,  which  had  been  cooked  on  a  spit.  Paulus  declined  to 
sup  with  them,  for  after  he  had  scourged  himself  in  despair 
and  remorse  for  the  throwing  of  the  discus,  he  had  vow^ed  a 
strict  fast. 

"  And  now,"  cried  Hermas,  when  his  father  declared  him- 
self satisfied,  after  seeming  to  relish  greatly  the  strong  xaasX 


HOMO   SUM.  65 

from  which  he  had  so  long  abstained,  "  and  now  the  best  is  to 
come!  In  this  flask  I  have  some  strengthening  wine,  and  when 
it  is  empty  it  will  be  filled  afresh." 

Stephanus  took  the  wooden  beaker  that  his  son  offered  him, 
drank  a  little,  and  then  said,  while  he  smacked  his  tongue  to 
relish  the  after-taste  of  the  noble  juice: 

"That  is  something  choice! — Syrian  wine!  only  taste  it, 
Paulus." 

Paulas  took  the  beaker  in  his  hand,  inhaled  the  fragrance  of 
the  golden  fluid,  and  then  murmured,  but  without  putting  it 
to  his  lips: 

"  This  is  not  Syrian;  it  is  Egyptian,  I  know  it  well.  I 
should  take  it  to  be  Mareotis." 

"  So  Sirona  called  it,"  cried  Hermas,  "  and  you  know  it  by 
the  mere  smell!  She  said  it  was  particularly  good  for  the 
sick." 

"  That  it  is,"  Paulus  agreed;  but  Stephanus  asked,  in  sur- 
prise: 

"  Sirona?  who  is  she?" 

The  cave  was  but  dimly  lighted  by  the  fire  that  had  been 
made  at  the  opening,  so  that  the  two  anchorites  could  not  per- 
ceive that  Hermas  reddened  all  over  as  he  replied:  "  Sirona? 
The  Gaulish  woman  Sirona?  Do  you  not  know  her?  She  is 
the  wife  of  a  centurion  down  in  the  oasis." 

"  How  do  you  come  to  know  her?"  asked  his  father. 

"  She  lives  in  Petrus's  house,"  replied  the  lad,  "  and  as  she 
had  heard  of  your  Avound — " 

"  Take  her  my  thanks  when  you  go  there  to-morrow  morn- 
ing," said  Stephanus.  "  To  her  and  her  husband,  too.  Is  he 
a  Gaul?" 

"I  believe  so — nay,  certainly,"  answered  Hermas;  "they 
call  him  the  lion,  and  he  is  no  doubt  a  Ganl." 

When  the  lad  had  left  the  cave  the  old  man  laid  himself 
down  to  rest,  and  Paulus  kept  watch  by  him  on  his  son's  bed. 
But  Stephanus  could  not  sleep,  and  when  his  friend  approached 
him  to  give  him  some  medicine  he  said:  "  The  wife  of  a  Gaul 
has  done  me  a  kindness,  and  yet  the  wine  would  have  pleased 
me  better  if  it  had  not  come  from  a  Gaul." 

Paulus  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  though  total  darkness 
reigned  in  the  cave  Stephanus  felt  his  gaze,  and  said : 

"  I  owe  no  man  a  grudge  and  I  love  my  neighbor.  Great 
injuries  have  been  done  me,  but  I  have  forgiven — from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  forgiven.  Only  one  man  lives  to  whom  I 
wish  evil,  and  he  is  a  GauL  " 

8 


66  HOMO   SUM. 

"  Forgive  him,  too,"  said  Paulus,  "  and  do  not  let  evil 
thoughts  disturb  your  sleep. " 

"  I  am  not  tired,"  said  the  sick  man,  "  and  if  you  had  gone 
through  such  things  as  I  have  it  would  trouble  your  rest  at 
night,  too." 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  Paulus,  soothingly.  "It  was  a 
Gaul  that  persuaded  your  wretched  wife  into  quitting  your 
house  and  her  child. " 

"  And  I  loved,  oh!  how  I  loved  Glycera!"  groaned  the  old 
man.  "  She  lived  like  a  princess,  and  I  fulfilled  her  every 
wish  before  it  was  uttered.  She  herself  had  said  a  hundred 
times  that  I  was  too  kind  and  too  yielding,  and  that  there  was 
nothing  left  for  her  to  wish.  Then  the  Gaul  came  to  our 
house,  a  man  as  acrid  as  sour  wine,  but  with  a  fluent  tongue 
and  sparkling  eyes.  How  he  entangled  Glycera  I  know  not, 
nor  do  I  want  to  know;  he  shall  atone  for  it  in  hell.  For  the 
poor  lost  woman  I  pray  day  and  night.  A  spell  was  on  her 
and  she  left  her  heart  behind  in  my  house,  for  her  child  was 
there — and  she  loved  Hermas  so  fondly;  indeed,  she  was  deeply 
devoted  to  me.  Think  what  the  spell  must  be  that  can  an- 
nihilate a  mother's  love!  Wretch,  hapless  wretch  that  I  am! 
Did  you  ever  love  a  woman,  Paulus?" 

"  You  ought  to  be  asleep,"  said  Paulus,  in  a  warning  tone. 
"  Who  ever  lived  nearly  half  a  century  without  feeling  love! 
Now  I  will  not  speak  another  word,  and  you  must  take  this 
drink  that  Petrus  has  sent  for  you.^'  The  senator's  medicine 
was  potent,  for  the  sick  man  fell  asleep  and  did  not  wake  till 
broad  day  lighted  up  the  cave. 

Paulus  was  still  sitting  on  his  bed,  and  after  they  had  prayed 
together  he  gave  him  the  jar  which  Hermas  had  filled  with 
fresh  water  before  going  down  to  the  oasis. 

"  I  feel  quite  strong,"  said  the  old  man.  "  The  medicine 
is  good;  I  have  slept  well  and  dreamed  sweetly;  but  you  look 
pale  and  as  if  you  had  not  slept." 

"I,"  said  Paulus — "  I  lay  down  there  on  the  bed.  Now  let 
me  go  out  in  the  air  for  a  moment. "  With  these  words  he 
went  out  of  the  cave. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight  of  Stephanus  he  drew  a  deep 
breath,  stretched  out  his  limbs  and  rubbed  his  burning  eyes; 
he  felt  as  if  there  was  sand  gathered  under  their  lids,  for  he 
had  forbidden  them  to  close  for  three  days  and  nights.  At  the 
same  time  he  was  consumed  by  a  violent  thirst,  for  neither  food 
nor  drink  had  touched  his  lips  for  the  same  length  of  time. 
His  hands  were  beginning  to  tremble,  but"  the  weakness  and 
pain  that  he  experienced  filled  him  with  silent  joy,  and  he 


HOMO   SUM.  67 

^onld  willingly  hare  retired  into  his  cave  and  haye  indulged, 
not  for  the  first  time,  in  the  ecstatic  pain  of  hanging  on  tha 
cross  and  bleeding  from  five  womids  in  imitation  of  the  Saviour. 

But  Stephanus  was  calling  him,  and  without  hesitation  he 
returned  to  him  and  replied  to  his  questions;  indeed  it  was 
easier  to  him  to  speak  than  to  listen,  for  in  his  ears  there  was 
a  roaring,  moaning,  singing,  and  piping,  and  he  felt  as  if 
drunk  with  strong  wine. 

"  If  only  Hermas  does  not  forget  to  thank  the  Gaul!"  ex- 
claimed Stephanus. 

"Thank — ay,  we  should  always  be  thankful!"  replied  his 
companion,  closing  his  eyes. 

"  I  dreamed  of  Glycera,"  the  old  man  began  again.  "  You 
said  yesterday  that  love  had  stirred  your  heart,  too,  and  yet  you 
never  were  married.    You  are  silent?  Answer  me  something." 

"  I — who  called  me?"  murmured  Paulus,  staring  at  the 
questioner  with  a  fixed  gaze. 

Stephanus  was  startled  to  see  that  his  companion  trembled 
in  every  limb;  he  raised  himself  and  held  out  to  him  the  flask 
with  Sirona's  wine,  which  the  other,  incapable  of  controlling 
himself,  snatched  eagerly  from  his  hand  and  emptied  with 
frantic  thirst.  The  fiery  liquor  revived  his  failing  strength, 
brought  the  color  to  his  cheeks,  and  lent  a  strange  luster  to 
his  eyes,  "  How  much  good  that  has  done  me!"  he  cried, 
with  a  deep  sigh  and  pressing  his  hands  on  his  breast. 

Stephanus  was  perfectly  reassured  and  repeated  his  question, 
but  he  almost  repented  of  his  curiosity,  for  his  friend's  voice 
liad  an  utterly  strange  ring  in  it  as  he  answered: 

"  No,  I  was  never  married — never,  but  I  have  loved  for  all 
that,  and  I  wUl  tell  you  the  story  from  beguming  to  end;  but 
you  must  not  interrupt  me,  no,  not  once.  I  am  in  a  strange 
mood — perhaps  it  is  the  wine.  I  had  not  drunk  any  for  so 
long;  I  had  fasted  since — since — but  it  does  not  matter.  Be 
silent,  quite  silent,  and  let  me  tell  my  story.'' 

Paulus  sat  down  on  Hermas's  bed;  he  threw  himself  far 
back,  leaned  the  back  of  his  head  against  the  rocky  wall  of  the 
cavern  through  whose  door- way  the  daylight  poured,  and  began 
thus,  while  he  gazed  fixedly  into  vacancy: 

"  What  she  was  like? — who  can  describe  her?  She  was  tall 
and  large  like  Hera,  and  yet  not  proud,  and  her  noble  Greek 
face  was  lovely  rather  than  handsome. 

"  She  could  no  longer  have  been  veiy  young,  but  she  had 
eyes  like  those  of  a  gentle  child.  I  never  knew  her  other  than 
very  pale;  her  narrow  forehead  shone  like  ivory  under  her  soft 
brown  hair;  her  beautiful  hands  were  as  white  as  her  forehead 


68  HOMO    SUM. 

— hands  that  moved  as  if  they  themselves  were  living  and  in- 
spired creatures  with  a  soul  and  language  of  their  own.  "When 
she  folded  them  devotedly  together  it  seemed  as  if  they  were 
putting  up  a  mute  prayer.  She  was  pliant  in  form  as  a  young 
palm-tree  when  it  bends,  and  withal  she  had  a  noble  dignity 
even  on  the  occasion  when  I  first  saw  her. 

"  It  was  in  a  hideous  spot,  the  revolting  prison-hall  of  Rhya- 
kotis.  She  wore  only  a  threadbare  robe  that  had  once  been 
costly,  and  a  foul  old  woman  followed  her  about — as  a  greedy 
rat  might  pursue  an  imprisoned  dove — and  loaded  her  with 
abusive  language.  She  answered  not  a  word,  but  large  heavy 
tears  flowed  slowly  over  her  pale  cheeks  and  down  on  to  her 
hands,  which  she  kept  crossed  on  her  bosom.  Grief  and 
anguish  spoke  from  her  eyes,  but  no  vehement  passion  de- 
formed the  regularity  of  her  features.  She  knew  how  to  en- 
dure even  ignominy  with  grace;  and  what  words  the  raging  old 
woman  poured  out  upon  her! 

"  I  had  long  since  been  baptized,  and  all  the  prisons  were 
open  to  me,  the  rich  Menander,  the  brother-in-law  of  the  pre- 
fect— those  prisons  in  which  under  Maximin  so  many  Chris- 
tians were  destined  to  be  turned  from  the  true  faith. 

"  But  she  did  not  belong  to  us.  Her  eye  met  mine,  and  I 
signed  my  forehead  with  the  cross,  but  she  did  not  respond  to 
the  sacred  sign.  The  guards  led  away  the  old  woman,  and 
she  drew  back  into  a  dark  corner,  sat  down,  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands.  A  wondrous  sympathy  for  the  hapless 
woman  had  taken  possession  of  my  soul;  I  felt  as  if  she  be- 
longed to  me,  and  I  to  her,  and  I  believed  in  her,  even  when 
the  turnkey  had  told  me  in  coarse  language  that  she  had  lived 
with  a  Roman  at  the  old  woman's,  and  had  defrauded  her  of  a 
large  sum  of  money.  The  next  day  I  went  again  to  the  prison, 
for  her  sake  and  my  own;  there  I  found  her  again  in  the  same 
comer  that  she  had  shrunk  into  the  day  before;  by  her  side 
stood  her  prison  fare  untouched — a  jar  of  water  and  a  piece  of 
bread. 

"  As  I  went  up  to  her,  I  saw  how  she  broke  a  small  bit  oif 
the  thin  cake  for  herself,  and  then  called  a  little  Christian  boy 
who  had  come  into  the  prison  with  his  mother,  and  gave  him 
the  remainder.  The  child  thanked  her  prettily,  and  she  drew 
him  to  her  and  kissed  him  with  passionate  tenderness,  though 
he  was  sickly  and  ugly. 

"  *  No  one  who  can  love  children  so  well  is  wholly  lost,'  said 
I  to  myself,  and  I  offered  to  help  her  as  far  as  lay  in  my  power. 

"  She  looked  at  me  not  without  distrust,  and  said  that  noth- 
mg  had  happened  to  her  but  what  she  deserved,  and  she 


HOMO    SUM.  €9 

would  bear  it.  Before  I  could  inquire  of  her  any  further,  we 
were  interrupted  by  the  Christian  prisoners,  who  crowded 
round  the  worthy  Ammonius,  who  was  exhorting  and  com- 
forting them  with  edifying  discourse.  She  listened  attentively 
to  the  old  man,  and  on  the  following  day  I  found  her  in  con- 
versation with  the  mother  of  the  boy  to  whom  she  had  given 
her  bread. 

"  One  morning  I  had  gone  there  with  some  fruit  to  offer  as 
a  treat  to  the  prisoners,  and  particularly  to  her.  She  took  an 
apple,  and  said,  rising  as  she  spoke,  '  I  would  now  ask  another 
favor  of  you.  You  are  a  Christian,  send  me  a  priest,  that  he 
may  baptize  me,  if  he  does  not  think  me  unworthy,  for  I  am 
burdened  with  sins  so  heavily  as  no  other  woman  can  be. '  Her 
large,  sweet,  child-like  eyes  filled  again  with  big  silent  tears, 
and  I  spoke  to  her  from  my  heart,  and  showed  her  as  well  as  I 
could  tne  grace  of  the  Eedeemer.  Shortly  after  Ammonius 
secretly  baptized  her,  and  she  begged  to  be  given  the  name  of 
Magdalen,  and  so  it  was,  and  after  that  she  took  me  wholly 
into  her  confidence. 

"  She  had  left  her  husband  and  her  child  for  the  sake  of  a 
diabolical  seducer,  whom  she  had  followed  to  Alexandria,  and 
who  there  had  abandoned  her.  Alone  and  friendless,  in  want 
and  guilt,  she  remained  behind  with  a  hard-hearted  and  covet- 
ous hostess,  who  had  brought  her  before  the  judge,  and  so  into 
prison.  What  an  abyss  of  the  deepest  anguish  of  soul  I  could 
discover  in  this  woman,  who  was  worthy  of  a  better  lot!  What 
is  highest  and  best  in  a  woman?  Her  love,  her  mother's 
heart,  her  honor;  and  Magdalen  had  squandered  and  ruined 
all  these  by  her  own  guilt.  The  blow  of  overwhelming  fate 
may  be  easily  borne,  but  woe  to  him  whose  life  is  ruined  by 
his  own  sin!  She  was  a  sinner;  she  felt  it  with  anguish  of  re- 
pentance, and  she  steadily  refused  my  offers  to  purchase  her 
freedom. 

"  She  was  greedy  of  punishment,  as  a  man  in  a  fever  is  greedy 
of  the  bitter  potion  which  cools  his  blood.  And,  by  the  cruci- 
fied Lord!  I  have  found  more  noble  humanity  among  sinners 
than  in  many  just  men  in  priestly  garb.  Through  the  pres- 
ence of  Magdalen,  the  prison  recovered  its  sanctity  in  my  eyes. 
Before  this  I  had  frequently  quitted  it  full  of  deep  contempt, 
for  among  the  imprisoned  Christians  there  were  too  often  lazy 
vagabonds,  who  had  loudly  confessed  the  Saviour  onlj"^  to  be  fed 
by  the  gifts  of  the  brethren ;  there  I  had  seen  accursed  crim- 
inals, who  hoped  by  a  martyr's  death  to  win  back  the  redemp- 
tion that  they  had  forfeited;  there  I  had  heard  the  woful  cries 
of  the  faint-hearted,  who  feared  death  as  much  as  they  feared 


70  HOMO    SUM. 

treason  to  the  Most  High.  There  were  things  to  be  seen 
there  that  might  harrow  the  soul,  but  also  examples  of  the 
sublimest  greatness.  Men  have  I  seen  there,  ay,  and  women, 
who  went  to  their  death  in  calm  and  silent  bliss,  and  whose 
end  was,  indeed,  noble — more  noble  than  that  of  the  much- 
lauded  Codrus  or  Decius  Mas. 

"  Among  all  the  prisoners  there  was  neither  man  nor  woman 
who  was  more  calmly  self-possessed,  more  devoutly  resigned, 
than  Magdalen.  1'he  words,  '  There  is  more  joy  in  Heaven 
over  one  sinner  that  repenteth  than  over  ninety-and-nine  that 
need  no  repentance/  strengthened  her  greatly,  and  she  re- 
pented— yea  and  verily,  she  did.  And  for  my  part,  God  is  my 
witness  that  not  an  impulse  as  from  man  to  woman  drew  me 
to  her,  and  yet  I  could  not  leave  her,  and  I  passed  the  day  at 
her  side,  and  at  night  she  haunted  my  soul,  and  it  would  have 
seemed  to  me  fairer  than  all  in  life  besides  to  have  been  allowed 
to  die  with  her. 

"It  was  at  the  time  of  the  fourth  decree  of  persecution,  a 
few  months  before  the  promulgation  of  the  first  edict  of  tolera- 
tion. 

"  He  that  sacrifices,  it  is  said,  shall  go  unpunished,  and  he 
that  refuses  shall  by  some  means  or  other  be  brought  to  it, 
but  those  who  continue  stiff-necked  shall  suffer  death.  For  a 
long  time  much  consideration  had  been  shown  to  the  prisoners, 
but  now  they  were  alarmed  by  having  the  edict  read  to  them 
anew.  Many  hid  themselves  groaning  and  lamenting,  others 
prayed  aloud,  and  most  awaited  what  might  happen  with  pale 
lips  and  painful  breathing. 

"  Magdalen  remained  perfectly  calm.  The  names  of  the 
Christian  prisoners  were  called  out,  and  the  Imperial  soldiers 
led  them  all  together  to  one  spot.  Neither  my  name  nor  hers 
was  called,  for  I  did  not  belong  to  the  prisoners,  and  she  had 
not  been  apprehended  for  the  faith's  sake.  The  ofilcer  was 
rolling  up  his  hst  when  Magdalen  rose  and  stepped  modestly 
forward,  saying,  with  quiet  dignity,  '  I,  too,  am  a  Christian. ' 

"  If  there  be  an  angel  who  wears  the  form  and  features  of 
man,  his  face  must  resemble  hers,  as  she  looked  in  that  hour. 
The  Roman,  a  worthy  man,  looked  at  her  with  a  benevolent 
but  searching  gaze.  '  I  do  not  find  your  name  here,'  he  said, 
aloud,  shaking  his  head  and  pointing  to  the  roll;  and  he  added, 
in  a  lower  voice,  '  Nor  do  I  intend  to  find  it. ' 

"  She  went  closer  up  to  him,  and  said  out  loud,  *  Grant  me 
my  place  among  the  believers,  and  write  down  that  Magdalen, 
the  Christian,  refuses  to  sacrifice. ' 

"  My  soul  was  deeply  moved,  and  with  joyful  eagerness  I 


HOMO    SUM.  71 

cried  out,  *  Put  down  my  name,  too,  and  write  that  Menander, 
the  son  of  Herophilus,  also  refuses.'    The  Roman  did  his  duty. 

"  Time  has  not  blotted  out  from  my  memory  a  single  mo- 
ment of  that  day.  There  stood  the  altar,  and  near  it  the 
heathen  priest  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  emperor's 
officer.  We  were  taken  up  two  by  two;  Magdalen  and  I  were 
the  last.  One  word  now — cae  little  word — would  give  us  life 
and  freedom,  another  the  rack  and  death.  Out  of  thirty  of 
us  only  four  had  found  courage  to  refuse  to  sacrifice,  but  the 
feeble-hearted  broke  out  into  lamentations,  and  beat  their 
foreheads,  and  prayed  that  the  Lord  might  strengthen  the 
courage  of  the  others.  An  unutterably  pure  and  lofty  joy 
filled  my  soul,  and  I  felt  as  if  we  were  out  of  the  body  float- 
ing on  ambient  clouds.  Softly  and  calmly  we  refused  to  sacri- 
fice, thanked  the  Imperial  official,  who  warned  us  kindly,  and 
in  the  same  hour  and  place  we  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  tor- 
turers. She  gazed  only  iip  to  heaven,  and  I  only  at  her,  but 
in  the  midst  of  the  most  frightful  torments  I  saw  before  me 
the  Saviour  beckoning  to  me,  surrounded  by  angels  that  soared 
on  soft  airs,  whose  presence  filled  my  eyes  with  the  purest 
light,  and  my  ears  with  heavenly  music.  She  bore  the  utmost 
torture  without  flinching,  only  once  she  called  out  the  name 
of  her  son  Hermas;  then  I  turned  to  look  at  her,  and  saw  her 
gazing  up  to  heaven  with  wide  open  eyes  and  trembling  lips — 
living,  but  already  with  the  Lord — on  the  rack,  and  yet  in 
bliss.  My  stronger  body  clung,  to  the  earth;  she  found  de- 
liverance at  the  first  blow  of  the  torturer. 

"  I  myself  closed  her  eyes,  the  sweetest  eyes  in  which 
heaven  was  ever  mirrored;  I  drew  a  ring  from  her  dear, 
white,  blood-stained  hand,  and  here  under  the  rough  sheep- 
skin I  have  it  yet;  and  I  pray,  I  pray,  I  pray — oh!  my  heart! 
My  God  if  it  might  be — if  this  is  the  end — " 

Paulus  put  his  hand  to  his  head  and  sunk  exhausted  on  the 
bed  in  a  deep  swoon.  The  sick  man  had  followed  his  story 
with  breathless  interest.  Some  time  since  he  had  risen  from 
his  bed,  and,  unobserved  by  his  companion,  had  sunk  on  his 
knees;  he  now  dragged  himself,  all  hot  and  trembling,  to  the 
side  of  the  senseless  man,  tore  the  sheep's-fell  from  his  breast, 
and  with  hasty  movement  sought  the  ring;  he  found  it,  and 
fixing  on  it  passionate  eyes  as  though  he  would  melt  it  with 
their  fire,  he  ;pressed  it  again  and  again  to  his  lips,  to  his  heart, 
to  his  lips  again;  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept  bitterly. 

It  was  not  till  Hermas  returned  from  the  oasis  that  Ste- 
phanus  thought  of  his  exhausted  and  fainting  friend,  and  with 
nis  son's  assistance  restored  him  to  consciousness.     Paulus  did 


T%  HOMO    SUM. 

not  refuse  to  take  some  food  and  drink,  and  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening,  when  he  was  refreshed  and  invigorated,  he  sat  again 
by  the  side  of  Stephanus,  and  understood  from  the  old  man 
that  Magdalen  was  certainly  his  wife. 

"  Now  I  know,"  said  Paulus,  pointing  to  Hermas,  "  how  it 
is  that  from  the  first  I  felt  such  a  love  for  the  lad  there. " 

The  old  man  softly  pressed  his  hand,  for  he  felt  himself  tied 
to  his  friend  by  a  new  and  tender  bond,  and  it  was  with  silent 
ecstasy  that  he  received  the  assurance  that  the  wife  he  had 
always  loved,  the  mother  of  his  child,  had  died  a  Christian 
and  a  martyr,  and  had  found  before  him  the  road  to  heaven. 

The  old  man  slept  as  peacefully  as  a  child  the  following 
night,  and  when,  next  morning,  messengers  came  from  Eaithu 
to  propose  to  Paulus  that  he  should  leave  the  Holy  Mountain 
and  go  with  them  to  become  their  elder  and  ruler,  Stephanus 
said: 

"  Follow  this  high  call  with  all  confidence,  for  you  deserve 
it.  I  really  no  longer  have  need  of  you,  for  I  shall  get  well 
now  without  any  further  nursing. " 

But  Paulus,  far  more  disturbed  than  rejoiced,  begged  of  the 
messengers  a  delay  of  seven  days  for  reflection,  and  after 
wandermg  restlessly  from  one  holy  spot  to  another,  at  last 
went  down  into  the  oasis,  there  to  pray  in  the  church. 


CHAPTER  VHL 

It  was  a  delicious  refreshing  evening;  the  full  moon  rose 
calmly  in  the  dark  blue  vault  of  the  night  sky,  and  poured  a 
flood  of  light  down  on  the  cool  earth.  But  its  rays  did  not 
give  a  strong  enough  light  to  pierce  the  misty  veil  that  hung 
over  the  giant  mass  of  the  Holy  Mountain;  the  city  of  the 
oasis  on  me  contrary  was  fully  illuminated;  the  broad  road- 
way of  the  high  street  looked  to  the  wanderer  who  descended 
from  the  height  above  like  a  shining  path  of  white  marble, 
and  the  f  resMy  plastered  walls  of  the  new  church  gleamed  as 
white  as  in  the  hght  of  day.  The  shadows  of  the  houses  and 
,  palm-trees  lay  like  dark  strips  of  carpet  across  the  road,  which 
was  nearly  empty  in  spite  of  the  evening  coolness,  which 
usually  tempted  the  citizens  out  into  the  air. 

The  voices  of  men  and  women  sounded  out  through  the 
open  windows  of  the  church;  then  the  door  opened  and  the 
Hiaranite  Christians,  who  had  been  partaking  of  the  Supper — 
the  bread  and  the  cup  passed  from  hand  to  hand — came  out 
into  the  moonlight.  The  elders  and  deacons,  the  readers  and 
aingers,  the  acolytes  and  the  assembled  priesthood  of  the  place 


HOMO    SUM.  73 

followed  the  bishop  Agapitus,  and  the  laymen  came  behind 
Obedianus,  the  head  man  of  the  oasis,  and  the  senator  Petrus; 
with  Petrus  came  his  wife,  his  grown-up  children  and  numer- 
ous slaves. 

The  church  was  empty  when  the  door-keeper,  who  was  ex- 
tinguishing the  lights,  observed  a  man  in  a  dark  comer  of  an 
antechamber  through  which  a  spring  of  water  softly  plashed 
and  trickled,  and  which  was  intended  for  penitents.  The  man 
was  prostrate  on  the  ground  and  absorbed  in  prayer,  and  he 
did  not  raise  himself  till  the  porter  called  him  and  threw  the 
light  of  his  little  lamp  full  in  his  face. 

He  began  to  address  him  with  hard  words,  but  when  he 
recognized  in  the  belated  worshiper  the  anchorite  Paulus  of 
Alexandria  he  changed  his  key,  and  said,  in  a  soft  and  almost 
submissive  tone  of  entreaty: 

"  You  have  surely  prayed  enough,  pious  man.  The  congre- 
gation have  left  the  church,  and  I  must  close  it  on  account  of 
our  beautiful  new  vessels  and  the  heathen  robbers.  I  know 
that  the  brethren  of  Eaithu  have  chosen  you  to  be  their  elder, 
and  that  this  high  honor  was  announced  to  you  by  their  mes- 
sengers, for  they  came  to  see  our  church,  too,  and  greatly  ad- 
mired it.  Are  you  going  at  once  to  settle  with  them,  or  shall 
you  keep  the  high  feast  with  us?" 

"  That  you  shall  hear  to-morrow,"  answered  Paulus,  who 
had  risen  from  his  knees  and  was  leaning  against  a  pillar  of 
the  narrow,  bare,  penitential  chamber.  "  In  this  house  dwells 
One  of  whom  I  would  fain  take  counsel,  and  I  beg  of  you  to 
leave  me  here  alone.  If  you  will  you  can  lock  the  door  and 
fetch  me  out  later,  before  you  go  to  rest  for  the  night." 

*'  That  can  not  be,"  said  the  man,  considering,  "  for  my 
wife  is  ill,  and  my  house  is  a  long  way  from  here,  at  the  end  of 
the  town  by  the  little  gate,  and  I  must  take  the  key  this  very 
evening  to  the  senator  Petrus,  because  his  son,  the  architect 
Antonius,  wants  to  begin  the  building  of  the  new  altar  the 
first  thing  to-morrow  morning.  The  workmen  are  to  be  here 
by  sunrise,  and  if — " 

"  Show  me  the  key,"  interrupted  Paulus.  "  To  what  im- 
told  blessing  may  this  little  instrument  close  or  open  the  issues! 
Do  you  know,  man,  that  I  think  there  is  a  way  for  us  both  out 
of  the  difficulty!  You  go  to  your  sick  wife,  and  I  will  take 
the  key  to  the  senator  so  soon  as  I  have  finished  my  devotions. " 

The  door-keeper  considered  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  ac- 
•jeded  to  the  request  of  the  future  presbyter  of  Eaithu,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  begged  him  not  to  linger  too  late. 

As  he  went  by  the  senator's  house  he  smeUed  the  savor  of 


74  HOMO    SUM. 

roast  meat;  he  was  a  poor  man  and  thought  to  himself:  "  They 
fast  in  there  just  when  it  pleases  them,  but  as  for  us,  we  fast 
when  it  pleases  us  least. " 

The  good  smell,  which  provoked  this  lament,  rose  from  a 
roast  sheep,  which  was  being  prepared  as  a  feast-supper  for 
the  senator  and  the  assembed  members  of  his  household;  even 
the  slaves  shared  in  the  late  evening  meal, 

Petrus  and  Dame  Dorothea  sat  in  the  Greek  fashion,  side  by 
side  in  a  half-reclining  position  on  a  simple  couch,  and  before 
them  stood  a  table  which  no  one  shared  with  them,  but  close 
to  which  was  the  seat  for  the  grown-up  children  of  the  house. 
The  slaves  squatted  on  the  ground  nearer  to  the  door,  and 
crowded  into  two  circles,  each  surrounding  a  steaming  dish, 
out  of  which  they  helped  themselves  to  the  brown  stew  of 
lentils  with  the  palm  of  the  hand.  A  round,  gray-looking 
cake  of  bread  lay  near  each,  and  was  not  to  be  broken  till  the 
steward  Jethro  had  cut  and  apportioned  the  sheep.  The  juicy 
pieces  of  the  back  and  thighs  of  the  animal  were  offered  to 
retrus  and  his  family  to  choose  from,  but  the  carver  laid  a 
slice  for  each  slave  on  his  cake — a  larger  for  the  men  and  a 
smaller  for  the  women.  Many  looked  with  envy  on  the  more 
succulent  piece  that  had  fallen  to  a  neighbor's  share,  but  not 
even  those  that  had  fared  worse  dared  to  complain,  for  a  slave 
was  allowed  to  speak  only  when  his  master  addressed  him,  and 
Petrus  forbid  even  his  children  to  discuss  their  food,  whether 
to  praise  it  or  to  find  fault. 

In  the  midst  of  the  underlings  sat  Miriam;  she  never  eat 
much,  and  all  meat  was  repulsive  to  her,  so  she  pushed  the 
cut  from  the  ribs  that  was  given  to  her  over  to  an  old  garden- 
woman,  who  sat  opposite,  and  who  had  often  given  her  a  fruit 
or  a  little  honey,  for  Miriam  loved  sweet  things.  Petrus  spoke 
not  a  word  to-day  to  his  slaves,  and  very  little  even  to  his 
family;  Dorothea  marked  the  deep  lines  between  his  grave 
eyes,  not  without  anxiety,  and  noted  how  he  pinched  his  lips, 
when,  forgetful  of  the  food  before  him,  he  sat  lost  in  medita- 
tion. 

The  meal  was  ended,  but  still  he  did  not  move,  nor  did  he 
observe  the  inquiring  glances  which  were  turned  on  him  by 
many  eyes.  No  one  dared  to  rise  before  the  master  gave  the 
signal. 

Miriam  followed  all  his  movements  with  more  impatience 
than  any  of  the  others  who  were  present;  she  rocked  restlessly 
backward  and  forward,  crumbled  the  bread  that  she  had  left 
with  her  slender  fingers,  and  her  breath  now  came  fast  and 


HOMO  Bxrx.  78 

faster,  and  now  seemed  to  stop  entirely.     She  had  heard  the 
court-yard  gate  open,  and  had  recognized  Hermas's  step. 

"  lie  wants  to  speak  to  the  master;  in  a  moment  he  will 
come  in  and  find  me  among  these — "  thought  she,  and  she 
involuntarily  stroked  her  hand  over  her  rough  hair  to  smooth 
it,  and  threw  a  glance  at  the  other  slaves,  in  which  hatred  and 
contempt  were  equally  marked. 

But  Hermas  came  not.  Not  for  an  instant  did  she  think 
that  her  ear  had  deceived  her — was  he  waiting  now  at  the  door 
for  the  conclusion  of  the  meal?  Was  his  late  visit  intended 
for  the  Gaulish  lady,  to  Avhom  she  had  seen  him  go  yesterday 
again  with  the  wine-jar? 

Sirona's  husband,  Phoebicius,  as  Miriam  well  knew,  was 
upon  the  mountain,  and  offering  sacrifice  by  moonlight  to 
Mithras  with  liis  fellow-heathen  in  a  cave  which  she  had  long 
known.  She  had  seen  the  Gaul  quit  the  court  during  the 
time  of  evening  prayer  with  a  few  soldiers,  two  of  whom  car- 
ried after  him  a  huge  coffer,  out  of  which  rose  the  handle  of  a 
mighty  caldron,  and  a  skin  full  of  water  and  various  vessels. 
She  knew  that  these  men  would  pass  the  whole  night  in  the 
grotto  of  Mithras,  and  there  greet  "  the  young  god  " — the 
rising  sun — with  strange  ceremonies;  for  the  inquisitive  shep- 
herdess had  more  than  once  listened,  when  she  had  led  her 
goats  up  the  mountain  before  the  break  of  day,  and  her  ear 
had  detected  that  the  worshipers  of  Mithras  were  performing 
their  nocturnal  solemnities.  Now  it  flashed  across  her  mind 
that  Sirona  was  alone,  and  that  the  late  visit  of  Hermas  proba- 
bly concerned  her  and  not  the  senator. 

She  started;  there  was  quite  a  pain  in  her  heart,  and,  as 
usual,  when  any  violent  emotion  agitated  her  mind,  she  in- 
voluntarily sprung  to  her  feet,  prompted  by  the  force  of  her 
passion,  and  had  almost  reached  the  door  when  the  senator's 
voice  brought  her  to  a  pause,  and  recalled  her  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  impropriety  of  her  behavior. 

The  sick  man  still  lay  with  his  inflamed  wound  and  fever 
down  in  the  court,  and  she  knew  that  she  should  escape  blame 
if  in  answer  to  her  master's  stern  questioning  she  said  that  the 
patient  needed  her,  but  she  had  never  told  a  lie,  and  her  pride 
forbade  her  even  now  to  speak  an  untruth.  The  other  slaves 
stared  with  astonishment,  as  she  replied,  "  I  wanted  to  get 
out;  the  supper  is  so  long." 

Petrus  glanced  at  the  window,  and  perceiving  how  high  the 
moon  stood,  he  shook  his  head  as  if  in  wonder  at  his  own  con- 
duct, then  without  blaming  her  he  offered  a  thanksgiving, 
gave  the  slaves  the  signal  to  leave  the  room,  and  after  receiv- 


76  HOMO    SUM. 

ing  a  kiss  of  "  good -night  "  from  each  of  his  children — from 
among  whom  Polykarp  the  sculptor  alone  was  missing — he 
withdrew  to  his  own  room.  But  he  did  not  remain  alone  there 
for  long.  80  soon  as  Dorothea  hsid  discussed  the  requirements 
of  the  house  for  the  next  day  with  Marthana  and  the  steward, 
ajid  had  been  through  the  sleeping-room  of  her  younger  chil- 
dren, casting  a  loving  glance  on  the  peaceful  sleepers,  arrang- 
ing here  a  coverlet  and  there  a  pillow,  she  entered  her  hus- 
band's room  and  called  his  name. 

Petrus  stood  still  and  looked  round,  and  his  grave  eyes  were 
full  of  grateful  tenderness  as  they  met  those  of  his  wife. 
Dorothea  knew  the  soft  and  loving  heart  within  the  stern  ex- 
terior, and  nodded  to  him  with  sympathetic  understanding; 
but  before  she  could  speak  he  said,  "  Come  in,  come  nearer  to 
me;  there  is  a  heavy  matter  in  hand,  and  you  can  not  escape 
your  share  of  the  burden." 

"  Give  me  my  share!"  cried  she,  eagerly.  "  The  slim  girl 
of  former  years  has  grown  a  broad-shouldered  old  woman,  so 
that  it  may  be  easier  to  her  to  help  her  lord  to  bear  the  many 
burdens  of  life.  But  I  am  seriously  anxious — even  before  we 
went  to  chuch  something  unsatisfactory  had  happened  to  you, 
and  not  merely  in  the  council-meeting.  There  must  be  some- 
thing not  right  with  one  of  the  children. " 

"  What  eyes  you  have!"  exclaimed  Petrus. 

"Dim  gray  eyes,''  said  Dorothea,  "and  not  even  particu- 
larly keen.  But  when  anything  concerns  you  and  the  children 
I  could  see  it  in  the  dark.  You  are  dissatisfied  with  Polykarp; 
yesterday,  before  he  set  out  for  Raithu,  you  looked  at  him 
so — so — what  sliall  I  say?  I  can  quite  imagine  what  it  is  all 
about,  but  I  believe  you  are  giving  yourself  groundless  anxiety. 
He  is  young,  and  so  lovely  a  woman  as  Sirona — " 

Up  to  this  point  Petrus  had  listened  to  his  wife  in  silence. 
Now  he  clasped  his  hands  and  interrupted  her:  "  Things  cer- 
tainly are  not  going  on  quite  right — but  I  ought  to  be  used  to 
it.  What  I  meant  to  have  confided  to  you  in  a  quiet  hour  you 
tell  me  as  if  you  knew  all  about  it. " 

"And  why  not?"  asked  Dorothea.  "When  you  graft  a 
scion  on  to  a  tree,  and  they  have  grown  well  together,  the 
grafted  branch  feels  the  bite  of  the  saw  that  divides  the  stock, 
or  the  blessing  of  the  spring  that  feeds  the  roots,  just  as  if  the 
pain  or  the  boon  were  its  own.  And  you  are  the  tree  and  I 
am  the  graft,  and  the  magic  power  of  marriage  has  made  ua 
one.  Your  pulses  are  my  pulses,  your  thoughts  have  become 
mine,  and  so  I  always  know  before  you  tell  me  what  it  is  that 
stirs  your  soul. " 


HOMO    SUM.  77 

Dorothea's  kind  eyes  moistened  as  she  spoke,  and  Petrua 
•warmly  clasped  her  hands  in  his  as  he  said,  "  And  if  the 
gnarled  old  trunk  bears  from  time  to  time  some  sweet  fruity 
he  may  thank  the  graft  for  it.  I  can  not  believe  that  the 
anchorites  up  yonder  are  peculiarly  pleasing  to  the  Lord  be- 
cause they  live  in  solitude.  Man  comes  to  his  perfect  humanity 
only  through  his  wife  and  child,  and  he  who  has  them  not  can 
never  learn  the  most  glorious  heights  and  the  darkest  depths 
of  life  and  feeling.  If  a  man  may  stake  his  whole  existence 
and  powers  for  anything,  surely  it  is  for  his  own  house.** 

"  And  you  have  honestly  done  so  for  ours!"  cried  Dorothea. 

"  For  ours,"  repeated  Petrus,  giving  the  words  the  strongest 
accent  of  his  deep  voice.  "  Two  are  stronger  than  one,  and  it  is 
long  since  we  ceased  to  say  '  I  *  in  discussing  any  question  con- 
cerning the  house  or  the  children;  and  both  have  been  touched 
by  to-day's  events. " 

"  The  senate  will  not  support  you  in  constructing  the  road?" 

"  No;  the  bishop  gave  the  casting  vote.  I  need  not  tell  you 
how  we  stand  toward  each  other,  and  I  will  not  blame  mm, 
for  he  is  a  just  man;  but  in  many  things  we  can  never  meet 
half  way.  You  know  that  he  was  in  his  youth  a  soldier,  and 
his  very  piety  is  rough — I  might  almost  say  warlike.  If  we 
had  yielded  to  his  views,  and  if  our  head  man,  Obedianus,  had 
not  supported  me,  we  should  not  have  had  a  single  picture  in 
the  church,  and  it  would  have  looked  like  a  bam  rather  than  a 
house  of  prayer.  We  never  have  understood  each  other,  and 
since  I  opposed  his  wish  of  making  Polykarp  a  priest,  and  sent 
the  boy  to  learn  of  the  sculptor  Thalassius — for  even  as  a  cMld 
he  drew  better  than  many  masters  in  these  wretched  days  that 
produce  no  great  artists — since  then,  I  say,  he  speaks  of  me  as 
if  I  were  a  heathen — " 

"  And  yet  he  esteems  you  highly;  that  I  know,"  interrupted 
Dame  Dorothea. 

"I  fully  return  his  good  opinion,"  rephed  Petrus,  "  and  it 
is  no  ordmary  matter  that  estranges  us.  He  thinks  that  he 
only  holds  the  true  faith,  and  ought  to  fight  for  it;  he  calls  all 
artistic  work  a  heathen  abomination;  he  never  felt  the  purify- 
ing influen(5e  of  the  beautiful,  and  regards  all  pictures  and 
statues  as  tending  to  idolatry.  Still  he  allows  himself  to  ad- 
mire Polykarp's  figures  of  angels  and  the  Good  Shepherd,  but 
the  hons  put  the  old  warrior  in  a  rage.  '  Accursed  idols  and 
works  of  the  devil,'  are  what  he  calls  them." 

"  But  there  were  liens  even  in  the  temple  of  Solomon," 
cried  Dorothea. 

"  I  Mrged  that,  and  also  that  in  the  schools  of  the  catechista. 


78  HOMO    BUM. 

and  in  the  educational  history  of  animals  which  we  poBsesa 
and  teach  from,  the  Saviour  himself  is  compared  to  a  lion,  and 
that  Mark,  the  evangelist,  who  brought  the  doctrine  of  the 
gospel  to  Alexandria,  is  represented  with  a  lion.  But  he  with- 
stood me  more  and  more  violently,  saying  that  Polykarp's 
works  were  to  adorn  no  sacred  place  but  the  Caesareum,  and 
that  to  him  is  nothing  but  a  heathen  edifice,  and  the  noble 
works  of  the  Greeks  that  are  preserved  there  he  calls  revolting 
images  by  which  Satan  insnares  the  souls  of  Christian  men. 
The  other  senators  can  understand  his  hard  words,  but  they 
can  not  follow  mine;  and  so  they  vote  with  him,  and  my 
motion  to  construct  the  roadway  was  thrown  over,  because  it 
did  not  become  a  Christian  assembly  to  promote  idolatry  and 
to  smooth  a  way  for  the  devil. '^ 

"  I  can  see  that  you  must  have  answered  them  sharply." 

"  Indeed  I  believe  so,"  answered  Petrus,  looking  down. 
"  Many  painful  things  were  no  doubt  said,  and  it  was  I  thai, 
suffered  for  them.  Agapitus,  who  was  looking  at  the  deacon's 
reports,  was  especially  dissatisfied  with  the  account  that  I  laid 
before  them;  they  blamed  us  severely  because  you  gave  away 
as  much  bread  to  heathen  households  as  to  Christians.  It  ii 
no  doubt  true,  but — " 

"  But,"  cried  Dorothea,  eagerly,  "  hunger  is  just  as  painful 
to  the  unbaptized,  and  their  Christian  neighbors  do  not  help 
them,  and  yet  they,  too,  are  our  flesh  and  blood.  I  should  ill 
fulfill  my  oflice  if  I  were  to  let  them  starve,  because  the  high- 
est comfort  is  lacking  to  them." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Petrus,  "  the  council  decided  that,  for  the 
future,  you  must  apply  at  the  most  a  fourth  part  of  tlie  grain 
allotted  to  their  use.  You  need  not  fear  for  them;  for  the 
future  some  of  our  own  produce  may  go  to  them  out  of  what 
we  have  hitherto  sold.  You  need  not  withdraw  even  a  loaf 
from  any  one  of  your  proteges,  but  certainly  may  now  be  laid 
by  the  plans  for  the  road.  Indeed  there  is  no  hurry  for  its 
completion,  for  Polykarp  will  now  hardly  be  able  to  go  on  with 
his  lions  here  among  us.  Poor  fellow!  with  what  delight  he 
'formed  the  clay  models,  and  how  wonderfully  he  succeeded  in 
reproducing  the  air  and  aspect  of  the  majestic  beasts.  It  is  as 
if  he  were  inspired  by  the  spirit  of  the  old  Athenian  masters. 
We  must  now  consider  whether  in  Alexandria — " 

"  Rather  let  us  endeavor,"  interrupted  Dorothea,  "  to  in- 
duce him  at  once  to  put  aside  his  models,  and  to  execute  other 
more  pious  works.  Agapitus  has  keen  eyes,  and  the  heathen 
work  IS  only  too  dear  to  the  lad's  heart." 

The  senator's  brow  grew  dark  at  the  last  words,  and  he  said. 


HOMO    SUM.  79 

not  without  some  excitement,  "  Everything  that  the  heathen 
do  is  not  to  be  condemned.  Polykarp  must  be  kept  busy, 
constantly  and  earnestly  occupied,  for  he  has  set  his  eyes  when 
they  should  not  be  set.  Sirona  is  the  wife  of  another,  and 
even  in  sport  no  man  should  try  to  win  his  neighbor's  wif& 
Uo  you  think  the  Gaulish  woman  is  capable  of  forgetting  her 
duty?" 

Dorothea  hesitated,  and  after  some  reflection  answered: 
"  She  is  a  beautiful  and  vain  child — a  perfect  child;  I  mean 
in  nature,  and  not  in  years,  although  she  certainly  might  be 
the  grandchild  of-  her  strange  husband,  for  whom  she  feela 
neither  love  nor  respect,  nor,  indeed,  anything  but  utter  aver- 
sion. I  know  not  what,  but  something  frightful  must  have 
come  between  them  even  in  Rome,  and  I  have  given  up  all 
attempts  to  gride  her  heart  back  to  him.  In  everything  elsi 
she  is  soft  and  yielding,  and  often,  when  she  is  playing  with 
the  children,  I  can  not  imagine  where  she  finds  her  recklesO 
gayety.  I  wish  she  were  a  Christian,  for  she  is  very  dear  U^ 
me — why  should  I  deny  it?  It  is  impossible  to  be  sad  when 
she  is  by,  and  she  is  devoted  to  me,  and  dreads  my  blame,  and 
is  always  striving  to  win  my  approbation.  Certainly  she  triea 
to  please  every  one,  even  the  children;  but,  so  far  as  I  can  see, 
not  Polykarp  more  than  any  one  else,  although  he  is  such  a 
fine  young  man.     No,  certainly  not. " 

"And  yet  the  boy  gazes  at  her,"  said  Petrus,  "and 
Phoebicius  has  noticed  it;  he  met  me  yesterday  when  I  came 
home,  and,  in  his  sour,  polite  manner,  requested  me  to  advisa 
my  son,  when  he  wished  to  offer  a  rose,  not  to  throw  it  into 
his  window,  as  he,  was  not  fond  of  flowers,  and  preferred  to 
gather  them  himself  for  his  wife." 

The  senator's  wife  turned  pale,  and  then  exclaimed,  shortly 
and  positively,  "  We  do  not  need  a  lodger,  and  much  as  I 
should  miss  his  wife,  the  best  plan  will  be  for  you  to  request 
him  to  find  another  dwelling.'' 

"  Say  no  more,  wife,"  Petrus  said,  sternly,  and  interrupting 
her  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  "  Shall  we  make  Sirona  pay  for 
it  because  our  son  has  committed  a  folly  for  her  sake?  You 
yourself  said  that  her  intercourse  with  the  children,  and  her 
respect  for  you,  preserve  her  from  evil;  and  now  shall  we  show 
her  the  door?  By  no  means.  The  Gauls  may  remain  in  my 
house  so  long  as  nothing  occurs  that  compels  me  to  send  them 
out  of  it.  My  father  was  a  Greek,  but  through  my  mother  I 
have  Amalekite  blood  in  my  veins,  and  I  should  dishonor  my- 
self if  I  drove  from  my  threshold  any  with  whom  I  had  once 
broken  bread  imder  my  roof.     Polykarp  shall  be  warned,  and 


80  HOMO    SUM. 

shall  learn  what  he  owes  to  us,  to  himself,  and  to  the  laws  ol 
God.  I  know  how  to  value  his  noble  gifts,  and  I  am  his 
friend,  but  I  am  also  his  master,  and  I  will  find  means  of  pre- 
venting my  son  from  introducing  the  light  conduct  of  the 
capital  beneath  his  father's  roof.'* 

The  last  words  were  spoken  with  weight  and  decision,  like 
the  blows  of  a  hammer,  and  stern  resolve  sparkled  in  the 
senator's  eyes.  Nevertheless,  his  wife  went  fearlessly  up  to 
him,  and  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  "  It  is  indeed  well 
that  a  man  can  keep  his  eyes  set  on  what  is  just,  when  we 
women  should  follow  the  hasty  impulse  of  our  heart.  Even  in 
wrestling,  men  only  fight  with  lawful  and  recognized  means,' 
while  fighting  women  use  their  teeth  and  nails.  You  men 
understand  better  how  to  prevent  injustice  than  we  do,  and 
that  you  have  once  more  proved  to  me,  but,  in  carrying  justice 
out,  you  are  not  our  superiors.  The  Gauls  may  remain  in  our 
house,  and  do  you  take  Polykarp  severely  to  task,  but  in  the 
first  instance  as  his  friend.  Or  would  it  not  be  better  if  you 
left  it  to  me?  He  was  so  happy  in  thinking  of  the  completion 
of  his  lions,  and  in  having  to  work  for  the  great  building  in 
the  capital,  and  now  it  is  all  over.  I  wish  you  had  already 
broken  that  to  him;  but  love  stories  are  women's  affairs,  and 
you  know  how  good  the  boy  is  to  me.  A  mother's  word  some- 
times has  more  effect  than  a  father's  blow,  and  it  is  in  life  as 
it  is  in  war — the  light  forces  of  archers  go  first  into  the  field, 
and  the  heavily  armed  division  stays  in  the  background  to  sup- 
port them;  then,  if  the  enemy  will  not  yield,  it  comes  forward 
and  decides  the  battle.  First  let  me  speak  to  the  lad.  It  may 
be  that  he  threw  the  rose  into  Sirona's  window  only  in  sport, 
for  she  plays  with  his  brothers  and  sisters  as  if  she  herself  were 
one  of  them.  I  will  question  him;  for  if  it  is  so,  it  woidd  be 
neither  just  nor  prudent  to  blame  him.  Some  caution  is 
needed  even  in  giving  a  warning;  for  many  a  one  who  would 
never  have  thought  of  stealing  has  become  a  thief  through 
false  suspicion.  A  young  heart  that  is  beginning  to  love  is 
like  a  wild  boy  who  always  would  rather  take  the  road  he  is 
warned  to  avoid;  and  when  I  was  a  girl,  I  myself  first  dis- 
covered how  much  I  liked  you  when  the  senator  Aman's  wife 
— who  wanted  you  for  her  own  daughter — advised  me  to  be  on 
my  guard  with  you.  A  man  who  has  made  such  good  use  of 
his  time  among  all  the  temptations  of  the  Greek  Sodom  as 
Polykarp,  and  who  has  won  such  high  praise  from  all  his 
teachers  and  masters,  can  not  have  been  much  injured  by  the 
h'ght  manners  of  the  Alexandrians.  It  is  in  a  man's  early  years 
that  he  takes  the  bent  which  he  follows  throughout  his  later 


HOMO   SUM.  81 

life,  and  that  he  had  done  before  he  left  our  house.  Nay — 
even  if  I  did  not  know  what  a  good  fellow  Polykarp  is — I  need 
only  look  at  you  to  say,  *  A  child  that  was  brought  up  by  this 
father  could  never  turn  out  a  bad  man. ' " 

Petrus  sadly  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  though  he  regarded 
his  wife's  flattering  words  as  mere  idle  folly,  and  yet  he  smiled 
as  he  asked: 

"  Whose  school  of  rhetoric  did  you  go  to?  So  be  it,  then; 
speak  to  the  lad  when  he  returns  from  Eaithu.  How  high  the 
moon  is  already;  come  to  rest — Antonius  is  to  place  the  altar 
in  the  early  dawn,  and  I  wish  to  be  present. " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Miriam's  ears  had  not  betrayed  her.  While  she  was  de- 
tained at  supper,  Hermas  had  opened  the  court-yard  gate;  he 
came  to  brmg  the  senator  a  noble  young  buck  that  he  had 
killed  a  few  hours  before,  as  a  thank-offering  for  the  medicine 
to  which  his  father  owed  his  recovery.  It  would  no  doubt 
have  been  soon  enough  the  next  morning,  but  he  could  find 
no  rest  up  on  the  mountain,  and  did  not— and  indeed  did  not 
care  to — conceal  from  himself  the  fact  that  the  wish  to  give 
expression  to  his  gratitude  attracted  him  down  into  the  oasis 
far  less  than  the  hope  of  seeing  Sirona  and  of  heariug  a  word 
from  her  lips. 

Since  their  first  meeting  he  had  seen  her  several  times,  and 
had  even  been  into  her  house,  when  she  had  given  him  the 
wine  for  his  father,  and  when  he  had  taken  back  the  empty 
flask.  Once,  as  she  was  filling  the  bottle  which  he  held  out 
of  the  large  jar,  her  white  fingers  had  touched  his,  and  her  in  • 
quiry  whether  he  were  afraid  of  her,  or  if  not,  why  his  hands 
which  looked  so  strong  should  tremble  so  violently,  dwelt  still 
in  his  mind.  The  nearer  he  approached  Petrus's  house  the 
more  vehemently  his  heart  beat;  he  stood  still  in  front  of  the 
gate-way  to  take  breath  and  to  collect  himself  a  little,  for  he 
felt  that,  agitated  as  he  was,  he  would  find  it  difficult  to  utter 
any  coherent  words. 

At  last  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  latch  and  entered  the  yard. 
The  watch-dogs  already  knew  him,  and  only  barked  once  as 
he  stepped  over  the  threshold. 

He  brought  a  gift  in  his  hand,  and  he  wanted  to  take  noth- 
ing away,  aiid  yet  he  appeared  to  himself  Just  like  a  thief  as 
he  looked  round,  first  at  the  main  building  lighted  up  by  th(! 
moon,  and  then  at  the  Gaul's  dwelling-house,  which,  veiled  in 
darkness,  stood  up  as  a  vague  silhouette,  and  threw  a  broad 


S3  HOMO   SUM. 

dark  shadow  on  the  granite  flags  of  the  pavement,  which  woo 
trodden  to  shining  smoothness.  There  was  not  a  soul  to  be 
seen,  and  the  reek  of  the  roast  sheep  told  him  that  Petrus  and 
his  household  were  assembled  at  supper. 

"  I  might  come  inopportunely  on  the  feasters,"  said  he  to 
himself,  as  he  threw  the  buck  over  from  his  left  to  his  right 
shoulder,  and  looked  up  at  Sirona's  window,  which  he  knew 
only  too  well. 

It  was  not  lighted  up,  but  a  whiter  and  paler  something  ap- 
peared within  its  dark  stone  frame,  and  this  something  at- 
tracted his  gaze  with  an  irresistible  spell;  it  moved,  and 
Sirona's  greyhound  set  up  a  sharp  barking. 

It  was  she — it  must  be  she!  Her  form  rose  before  liis  fancy 
in  all  its  brilliant  beauty,  and  the  idea  flashed  through  his 
mind  that  she  must  be  alone,  for  he  had  met  her  husband 
and  the  old  slave  woman  among  the  worshipers  of  Mithras  ou 
their  way  to  the  mountain,  llie  pious  youth,  who  so  lately 
had  punished  his  flesh  with  the  scourge  to  banish  seductive 
dream-figures,  had  in  these  few  days  become  quite  another 
man.  He  would  not  leave  the  mountain  for  his  father's  sake, 
but  he  was  quite  determined  no  longer  to  avoid  the  way  of  the 
world;  nay,  rather  to  seek  it.  He  had  abandoned  the  care  of 
his  father  to  the  kindly  Paulus,  and  had  wandered  about 
among  the  rocks;  there  he  had  practiced  throwing  the  discus, 
he  had  hunted  the  wild  goats  and  beasts  of  prey,  and  from 
time  to  time — but  always  with  some  timidity — he  had  gone 
down  into  the  oasis  to  wander  round  the  senator's  house  and 
catch  a  glimpse  of  Sirona. 

Now  that  he  knew  that  she  was  alone  he  was  irresistibly 
drawn  to  her.  What  he  desired  of  her  he  himself  could  not 
have  said,  and  nothing  w  as  clear  to  his  mind  beyond  the  wish 
to  touch  her  fingers  once  more. 

Whether  this  were  a  sin  or  not  was  all  the  same  to  him:  the 
most  harmless  play  was  called  a  sin,  and  every  thought  of  the 
world  for  which  he  longed;  and  he  was  fully  resolved  to  take 
the  sin  upon  himself,  if  only  he  might  attain  his  end.  Sin 
^f  ter  all  was  nothing  but  a  phantom  terror  with  which  they 
frighten  children,  and  the  worthy  Petrus  had  assured  him  that 
he  might  be  a  man  capable  of  great  deeds.  With  a  feeling 
that  he  was  venturing  on  an  unheard-of  act,  he  went  toward 
Sirona's  window,  and  she  at  once  recognized  him  as  he  stood 
in  the  moonlight. 

"  Hermas!"  he  heard  her  say  softly.     He  was  seized  with 

^uch  violent  terror  that  he  stood  as  if  spell-bound,  the  goat 

lipped  from  his  shoulders,  and  he  felt  03  if  his  heart  hod 


HOMO    SUM.  83 

ceased  to  beat.  And  again  the  sweet  woman's  voice  called 
"  Hermas,  is  it  you?  What  brings  you  to  us  at  such  a  late 
hour?" 

He  stammered  an  incoherent  answer,  and  she  said,  "  I  do 
not  understand;  come  a  little  nearer. '* 

Involuntarily  he  stepped  forward  into  the  shadow  of  the 
house  and  close  up  to  her  window.  She  wore  a  white  robe 
with  wide,  open  sleeves,  and  her  arms  shone  in  the  dim  light 
as  white  as  her  garment.  The  greyhound  barked  again;  she 
quieted  it,  and  then  asked  Hermas  how  his  father  was,  and 
whether  he  needed  some  more  wine.  He  replied  that  she  M'as 
very  kind,  angelically  kind,  but  that  the  sick  man  was  recover- 
ing fast,  and  that  she  had  already  given  him  far  too  much. 
Neither  of  them  said  anything  that  might  not  have  been  heard 
by  everybody,  and  yet  they  whispered  as  if  they  were  speaking 
of  some  forbidden  thing. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Sirona,  and  she  disappeared  within 
the  room;  she  soon  reappeared,  and  said,  softly  and  sadly,  "  I 
would  ask  you  to  come  into  the  house,  but  Phoebicius  has 
locked  the  door.  I  am  quite  alone;  hold  the  flask,  so  that  I 
may  fill  it  through  the  open  window. " 

With  these  words  she  leaned  over  with  the  large  jar;  she 
was  strong,  but  the  wine-jar  seemed  to  her  heavier  than  on 
other  occasions,  and  she  said,  with  a  sigh,  "  The  amphora  is 
too  heavy  for  me." 

He  reached  up  to  help  her;  again  his  fingers  met  hers,  and 
again  he  felt  the  ecstatic  thrill  which  had  haunted  his  memory 
day  and  night  ever  since  he  first  had  felt  it.  At  this  instant 
there  was  a  sudden  noise  in  the  house  opposite;  the  slaves  were 
coming  out  from  supper.  Sirona  knew  what  was  happening; 
she  started  and  cried  out,  pointing  to  the  senator's  door,  "  For 
all  the  gods'  sake!  they  are  coming  out,  and  if  they  see  you 
here  I  am  lost!" 

Hermas  looked  hastily  round  the  court,  and  listened  to  the 
increasing  noise  in  the  other  house,  then,  perceiving  that  there 
was  no  possible  escape  from  the  senator's  people,  who  were 
close  upon  him,  he  cried  out  to  Sirona,  in  a  commanding  tone, 
"  Stand  back!"  and  flung  himself  up  through  the  window  into 
the  Gaul's  apartment.  At  the  same  moment  the  door  opposite 
opened,  and  the  slaves  streamed  out  into  the  yard. 

In  front  of  them  all  was  Miriam,  who  looked  expectantly 
all  round  the  wide  space  seeking  something,  and  disappointed. 
He  was  not  there,  and  yet  she  had  heard  him  come  in;  and 
the  gate  had  not  opened  and  closed  a  second  time,  of  that  she 
was  perfectly  certain.     Some  of  the  slaves  went  to  the  stables. 


84  HOMO    SUM. 

others  went  outside  the  gate  into  the  street  to  enjoy  the  cool- 
ness of  the  evening;  they  sat  in  groups  on  the  ground,  looking 
up  at  the  stars,  chattering  or  singing.  Only  the  shepherdess 
remained  in  the  court-yard  seeking  him  on  all  sides,  as  if  she 
were  himting  for  some  lost  trinket.  She  searched  even  behind 
the  mill-stones,  and  in  the  dark  sheds  in  which  the  stone- 
workers'  tools  were  kept.  Then  she  stood  still  a  moment  and 
clinched  her  hands;  with  a  few  light  bounds  she  sprung  into 
the  shadow  of  the  GauFs  house.  Just  in  front  of  Sirona's 
window  lay  the  stein  bock;  she  hastily  touched  it  with  her 
slender  naked  toes,  but  quickly  withdrew  her  foot  with  a 
shudder,  for  it  had  touched  the  beast's  fresh  wound,  wet  with 
its  blood.  She  rapidly  drew  the  conclusion  that  he  had  killed 
it,  and  had  thrown  it  down  here,  and  that  he  could  not  be  far 
off.  Now  she  knew  where  he  was  in  hiding — and  she  tried  to 
laugh,  for  the  pain  she  felt  seemed  too  acute  and  burning  for 
tears  to  allay  or  cool  it.  But  she  did  not  wholly  lose  her 
power  of  reflection.  "  They  are  in  the  dark,"  thought  she, 
"  and  they  would  see  me  if  I  crept  under  the  window  to 
listen;  and  yet  I  must  know  what  they  are  doing  there  to- 
gether. " 

She  hastily  turned  her  back  on  Sirona's  house,  slipped  into 
the  clear  moonlight,  and  after  standing  there  for  a  few  min- 
utes, went  into  the  slaves'  quarters.  An  instant  after  she 
slipped  out  behind  the  mill-stones,  and  crept  as  cleverly  and 
as  silently  as  a  snake  along  the  ground  under  the  darkened 
base  of  the  centurion's  house,  and  lay  close  under  Sirona's 
window. 

Her  loudly  beating  heart  made  it  diflBcult  for  even  her  sharp 
ears  to  hear,  but  though  she  could  not  gather  all  that  he  said, 
she  distinguished  the  sound  of  his  voice;  he  was  no  longer  in 
Sirona's  room,  but  in  the  room  that  looked  out  on  the  street. 

Now  she  could  venture  to  raise  herself  and  to  look  in  at  the 
open  window.  The  door  of  communication  between  the  two 
rooms  was  closed,  but  a  streak  of  light  showed  her  that  in  the 
further  room,  which  was  the  sitting-room,  a  lamp  was  burn- 
ing. 

She  had  already  put  up  her  hand  in  oi-der  to  hoist  herself 
up  into  the  dark  room,  when  a  gay  laugh  from  Sirona  fell 
upon  her  ear.  The  image  of  her  enemy  rose  up  before  her 
mind,  brilliant  and  flooded  with  light  as  on  that  morning 
when  Ilermas  had  stood  just  opposite,  bewildered  by  lier  fasci- 
nation. And  now — now — he  was  actually  lying  at  her  feet, 
and  saying  sweet  flattering  words  to  her,  and  he  would  speak 


HOMO    SUM.  85 

to  her  of  love,  and  stretch  out  his  arm  to  clasp  her — but  sho 
had  laughed. 

Now  she  laughed  again.  Why  was  all  so  still  again?  Had 
she  offered  her  rosy  lips  for  a  kiss?  No  doubt— no  doubt. 
And  Hermas  did  not  wrench  himself  from  her  white  arms,  as 
he  had  torn  himself  from  hers  that  noon  by  the  spring — torn 
himself  away  never  to  return. 

Cold  drops  stood  on  her  brow,  she  buried  her  hands  in  her 
thick,  black  hair,  and  a  loud  cry  escaped  her — a  cry  like  that 
of  a  tortured  animal.  A  few  minutes  more  and  she  had 
slipped  through  the  stable  and  the  gate  by  which  they  drove 
the  cattle  in;  and  no  longer  mistress  of  herself,  was  flying  up 
the  mountain  to  the  grotto  of  Mithras  to  wani  Phosbicius. 

The  anchorite  Gelasius  saw  from  afar  the  figure  of  the  girl 
flying  up  the  mountain  in  the  moonlight,  and  her  shadow  flit- 
ting from  stone  to  stone,  and  he  threw  himself  on  the  ground, 
and  signed  a  cross  on  his  brow,  for  he  thought  he  saw  a  goblin 
form,  one  of  the  myriad  gods  of  the  heathen — an  Oread  pur- 
sued by  a  Satyr. 

Sirona  had  heard  the  girl's  shriek. 

"  What  was  that?"  she  asked  the  youth,  who  stood  before 
her  in  the  full-dress  uniform  of  a  Eoman  oflBcer,  as  handsome 
as  the  young  god  of  war,  though  awkward  and  unsoldierly  in 
his  movements. 

"  An  owl  screamed — "  replied  Hermas.  "  My  father  must 
at  last  tell  me  from  what  house  we  are  descended,  and  I  will 
go  to  Byzantium,  the  new  Eome,  and  say  to  the  emperor, 
'  Here  am  I,  and  I  will  fight  for  you  among  your  warriors. '  " 

"  I  like  you  so!"  exclaimed  Sirona. 

"If  that  is  the  truth,"  cried  -Hermas,  "prove  it  to  me! 
Let  me  once  press  my  lips  to  your  shining  gold  hair.  You 
are  beautiful:  as  sweet  as  a  flower,  as  gay  and  bright  as  a  bird, 
and  yet  as  hard  as  our  mountain  rook.  If  you  do  not  grant 
me  one  kiss  I  shall  long  till  I  am  sick  and  weak  before  I  can 
get  away  from  here,  and  prove  my  strength  in  battle." 

"And  if  I  yield,"  laughed  Sirona,  "  you  will  be  wanting 
another  and  another  kiss,  and  at  last  not  get  away  at  all.  No, 
no,  my  friend — I  am  the  wiser  of  us  two.  Now  go  into  the 
dark  room;  I  will  look  out  and  see  whether  the  people  are 
gone  in  again,  and  whether  you  can  get  off  unseen  from  the 
street  window,  for  you  have  been  here  much  too  long  already. 
Do  you  hear? — I  command  you. " 

Hermas  obeyed  with  a  sigh;  Sirona  opened  the  shutter  and 
looked  out.  The  slaves  were  coming  back  into  the  court,  and 
ijhe  called  out  a  friendly,  word  or  two,  which  were  answered 


86  HOMO    SUM. 

■jfith  equal  friendliness,  for  the  Gaulish  lady,  who  never  over 
looked  even  the  humblest,  was  dear  to  them  all.     She  took  in 
the  night  air  with  deep-drawn  breaths,  and  looked  up  con- 
tentedly at  the  moon,  for  she  was  well  content  with  herself. 

When  Hermas  had  swung  himself  up  into  her  room  she  had 
started  back  in  alarm;  he  had  seized  her  hand,  and  pressed  his 
burning  lips  to  her  arm,  and  she  let  him  do  it,  for  she  was 
overcome  with  strange  bewilderment.  Then  she  heard  Dame 
Dorothea  calling  out,  "  Directly — directly;  I  will  only  say  good- 
night first  to  the  children." 

These  simple  words,  uttered  in  Dorothea's  voice,  had  a 
magical  effect  on  the  warm-hearted  woman — badly  used  and 
suspected  as  she  was,  and  yet  so  well  formed  for  happiness, 
love,  and  peace.  When  her  husband  had  locked  her  in,  taking 
even  her  slave  with  him,  at  first  she  had  raved,  wept,  meditated 
revenge  and  flight,  and  at  last,  quite  broken  down,  had  seated 
herself  by  the  window  in  silent  thought  of  her  beautiful  home, 
her  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the  dark  olive  groves  of  Arelas. 

Then  Hermas  appeared.  It  had  not  escaped  her  that  the 
young  anchorite  passionately  admired  her;  and  she  was  not 
displeased,  for  she  liked  him,  and  the  confusion  with  which 
he  had  been  overcome  at  the  sight  of  her  flattered  her  and 
seemed  to  her  doubly  precious,  because  she  knew  that  the 
hermit  in  his  sheep-skin,  on  whom  she  had  bestowed  a  gift  of 
wine,  was  in  fact  a  young  man  of  distinguished  rank.  And 
how  truly  to  be  pitied  was  the  poor  boy,  who  had  had  his 
youth  spoiled  by  a  stem  father.  A  woman  easily  bestows 
some  tender  feeling  on  the  man  that  she  pities;  perhaps  be- 
cause she  is  grateful  to  him  for  the  pleasure  of  feeling  herself 
the  stronger,  and  because  through  him  and  his  snffering  she 
finds  gratification  for  the  noblest  happiness  of  a  woman's 
heart— that  of  giving  tender  and  helpful  care;  women's  hearts 
are  softer  than  ours.  In  men's  hearts  love  is  commonly  ex- 
tinguished when  pity  begins,  while  admiration  acts  like  sun- 
shine on  the  budding  plant  of  a  woman's  inclination,  and  pity 
is  the  glory  which  radiates  from  her  heart. 

JTeither  admiration  nor  pity,  however,  would  have  been 
needed  to  induce  Sirona  to  call  Hermas  to  her  window;  she 
felt  so  unhappy  and  lonely  that  any  one  must  have  seemed 
welcome  from  whom  she  might  look  for  a  friendly  and  encour- 
aging word  to  revive  her  deeply  wounded  self-  respect.  And 
there  came  the  young  anchorite,  who  forgot  himself  and  every- 
thing else  in  her  presence,  whose  lool^,  whose  movement, 
whose  very  silence  seemed  to  do  homage  to  her.  And  then  his 
bold  spring  into  her  room,  and  his  eager  wooing — "  This  is 


HOMO    SUM.  87 

love,*'  said  she  to  herself.  Her  cheeks  glowed,  and  when  Her- 
mas  clasped  her  hand,  and  pressed  her  arm  to  his  lips,  she 
could  not  repulse  him,  till  Dorothea's  voice  reminded  her  of 
the  worthy  lady  and  of  the  children,  and  through  them  of  her 
own  far-off  sisters. 

The  thought  of  these  pure  beings  flowed  over  her  troubled 
spirit  like  a  purifying  stream,  and  the  question  passed  through 
her  mind,  "  What  should  I  be  without  those  good  folks  ovir 
there?  and  is  this  great  love-sick  boy,  who  stood  before  Poly- 
karp  just  lately  looking  like  a  school-boy — is  he  so  worthy  that 
I  should  for  his  sake  give  up  the  right  of  looking  them  boldly 
in  the  face?"  And  she  pushed  Hermas  roughly  away,  just  as 
he  was  venturing  for  the  first  time  to  apply  his  lips  to  her  per- 
fumed gold  hair,  and  desired  him  to  be  less  forward,  and  to  re- 
lease her  hand. 

She  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  but  with  such  decision  that  the 
lad,  who  was  accustomed  to  the  habit  of  obedience,  unresist- 
ingly allowed  her  to  push  him  into  the  sitting-room.  There 
was  a  lamp  burning  on  the  table,  and  on  a  bench  by  the  wall 
of  the  room,  which  was  Uned  with  colored  stucco,  lay  the  hel- 
met, the  centurion's  staff,  and  the  other  portions  of  the  armor 
which  Phoebicius  had  taken  off  before  setting  out  for  the  feast 
of  Mithras,  in  order  to  assume  the  vestments  of  one  of  the 
initiated  of  the  grade  of  "  Lion." 

The  lamp-light  revealed  Sirona's  figure,  and  as  she  stood  be- 
fore him  in  all  her  beauty,  with  glowing  cheeks,  the  lad's  heart 
began  to  beat  high,  and  with  increased  boldness  he  opened  his 
arms  and  endeavored  to  draw  her  to  him;  but  Sirona  avoided 
him  and  went  behind  the  table,  and,  leaning  her  hands  on  its 
pohshed  surface  while  it  protected  her  like  a  shield,  she  lectured 
him  in  wise  and  almost  motherly  words  against  his  rash,  in- 
temperate, and  unbecoming  behavior. 

Any  one  who  was  learned  in  the  heart  of  woman  might  have 
smiled  at  such  words  from  such  lips  and  in  such  an  hour;  but 
Hermas  blushed  and  cast  down  his  eyes,  and  knew  not  what  to 
answer.  A  great  change  had  come  over  the  Gaulish  lady.  She 
felt  a  great  pride  in  her  virtue,  and  in  the  victory  she  had  won 
over  herself;  and  while  she  sunned  herself  in  the  splendor  of 
her  own  merits,  she  wished  that  Hermas,  too,  should  feel  and 
recognize  them.  She  began  to  expatiate  on  all  that  she  had  to 
forego  and  to  endure  in  the  oasis,  and  she  discoursed  of  virtue 
and  the  duties  of  a  wife,  and  of  the  wickedness  and  audacity  of 
men. 

Hermas,  she  said,  was  no  better  than  the  rest,  and  because 
she  had  shown  herself  somewhat  kind  to  him,  he  fancied  already 


88  HOMO  sv\x. 

that  lie  had  a  lilaim  on  her  liking;  but  he  was  greatly  mis- 
taken, and  if  only  the  court-yard  had  been  empty,  she  would 
long  ago  have  shown  him  the  door. 

The  young  hermit  was  soon  only  half  listening  to  all  she 
said,  for  his  attention  had  been  riveted  by  the  armor  which 
lay  before  him,  and  which  gave  a  new  direction  to  his  excited 
feelings.  He  involuntarily  put  out  his  hand  toward  the  gleam- 
ing helmet,  and  interrupted  the  pretty  preacher  with  the  ques- 
tion, "  May  I  try  it  on? 

Sirona  laughed  out  loud  and  exclaimed,  much  amused  and 
altogether  diverted  from  her  train  of  thought,  "  To  be  sure. 
You  ought  to  be  a  soldier.  How  well  it  smts  you !  Take  ofl 
your  nasty  sheep-skin,  and  let  us  see  how  the  anchorite  looks' 
as  a  centurion." 

Hermas  needed  no  second  telling:  he  decked  himself  in  the 
Gaul's  armor  with  Sirona's  help.  We  human  beings  must  in- 
deed be  in  a  deplorable  plight;  otherwise  how  is  it  that  from  our 
earliest  years  we  find  such  delight  in  disguising  ourselves;  that 
is  to  say,  in  sacrificing  our  own  identity  to  the  tastes  of  another, 
whose  aspect  we  borrow?  The  child  shares  this  inexplicable 
pleasure  with  the  sage,  and  the  stern  man  who  should  con- 
demn it  would  not  therefore  be  the  wiser,  for  he  who  wholly 
abjures  folly  is  a  fool  all  the  more  certainly  the  less  he  fancies 
himself  one.  Even  dressing  others  has  a  peculiar  charm,  espe- 
cially for  women;  it  is  often  a  question  which  has  the  greatest 
pleasure,  the  maid  who  dresses  her  mistress  or  the  lady  who 
wears  the  costly  garment. 

Sirona  was  devoted  to  every  sort  of  masquerading.  If  it  had 
been  needful  to  seek  a  reason  why  the  senator's  children  and 
grandchildren  were  so  fond  of  her,  by  no  means  last  or  least 
would  have  been  the  fact  that  she  would  willingly  and  cheer- 
fully allow  herself  to  be  tricked  out  in  colored  kerchiefs,  rib- 
bons, and  flowers,  and  on  her  part  could  contrive  the  most  fan- 
tsstic  costumes  for  them.  So  soon  as  she  saw  Hermas  with 
the  helmet  on,  the  fancy  seized  her  to  carry  through  the  trav- 
esty he  had  begun.  She  eagerly  and  in  perfect  innocence 
pvilled  the  coat  of  armor  straight,  helped  him  to  buckle  the 
breast-plate  and  to  fasten  on  the  sword,  and  as  she  performed 
the  task,  at  which  Hermas  proved  himself  unskillful  enough, 
her  gay  and  pleasant  laugh  rang  out  again  and  again.  When 
he  sought  to  seize  her  hand,  as  he  not  seldom  did,  she  hit  him 
sharply  on  the  fingers,  and  scolded  him. 

Hermas's  embarrassment  thawed  before  this  pleasant  sport, 
and  soon  he  began  to  tell  her  how  hateful  the  lonely  life  on  the 
mountain  was  to  him.     He  told  her  that  Petrus  himself  had 


HOMO   SUM.  8S 

vidvised  him  to  try  his  strength  out  in  the  world,  aaid  he  con- 
fided to  her  that  if  his  father  got  well,  he  meant  to  be  a  sol- 
dier, and  do  great  deeds.  She  quite  agreed  with  him,  praised 
and  encouraged  him,  then  she  criticized  his  slovenly  deport- 
ment, showed  him  with  comical  gravity  how  a  warrior  ought 
to  stand  and  walk,  called  herself  his  drill-master,  and  was  de- 
lighted at  the  zeal  with  which  he  strove  to  imitate  her. 

In  such  play  the  hours  passed  quickly.  Hermas  was  proud 
of  himself  in  his  soldierly  garb,  and  was  happy  in  her  presence 
and  in  the  hope  of  future  ti-iumphs;  and  Sirona  was  gay,  as 
she  had  usually  been  only  when  playing  with  the  children,  so 
that  even  Miriam's  wild  cry,  which  the  youth  explained  to  be 
the  scream* of  an  owl,  only  for  a  moment  reminded  her  of  this 
danger  in  which  she  was  placing  herself.  Petrus's  slaves  had 
long  gone  to  rest  before  she  began  to  weary  of  amusing  herself 
with  Hermas,  avxd  desired  him  to  lay  aside  her  husband's  equip- 
ment, and  to  leave  her.  Hermas  obeyed  while  she  warily 
opened  the  shutters,  and  turning  to  him,  said,  "  You  can  not 
venture  through  the  court-yard;  you  must  go  through  this  win- 
dow into  the  open  street.  But  there  is  some  one  coming  down 
the  road;  let  him  pass  first,  it  will  not  be  long  to  wait,  for  he 
is  walking  quickly." 

She  carefully  drew  the  shutters  to,  and  laughed  to  see  how 
clumsily  Hermas  set  to  work  to  unbuckle  the  greaves;  but  the 
gay  laugh  died  upon  her  lips  when  the  gate  flew  open,  the 
greyhound  and  the  senator's  watch-dogs  barked  loudly,  and 
she  recognized  her  husband's  voice  as  he  ordered  the  dogs  to 
be  quiet. 

"Fly — fly — for  the  gods'  sake!"  she  cried  in  a  trembling 
voice.  With  that  ready  presence  of  mind  with  which  destiny 
arms  the  weakest  woman  in  great  and  sudden  danger,  she  ex- 
tinguished the  lamp,  flung  open  the  shutter,  and  pushed  Her- 
mas to  the  window.  The  boy  did  not  stay  to  bid  her  farewell, 
but  swung  himself  with  a  strong  leap  down  into  the  road,  and, 
followed  by  the  barking  of  the  dogs,  which  roused  all  the 
neighboring  households,  he  flew  up  the  street  to  the  little 
church. 

He  had  not  got  more  than  half  way  when  he  saw  a  man 
coming  toward  him;  he  sprung  into  the  shadow  of  a  house, 
but  the  belated  walker  accelerated  his  steps,  and  came  straight 
up  to  him.  He  set  oti  running  again,  but  the  other  pursued 
him,  and  kept  close  at  his  heels  till  he  had  passed  all  the  houses 
i^nd  began  to  go  up  the  mountam  path.  Hermas  felt  that  he 
was  outstripping  his  pursuer,  and  was  making  ready  for  a 
spring  over  a  block  of  stone  that  encumbered  the  path,  when 


90  HOMO    SUM. 

he  heard  his  name  called  behind  him,  and  he  stood  still,  for  he 
recognized  the  voice  of  the  man  from  whom  he  was  flying  as 
that  of  his  good  friend  Paulus. 

"You,  indeed!"  said  the  Alexandrian,  panting  for  breath. 
"  Yes,  you  are  swifter  than  I.  Years  hang  lead  on  our  heels, 
but  do  you  know  what  it  is  that  lends  them  the  swiftest  wings? 
You  have  just  learned  it!  It  is  a  bad  conscience;  and  pretty 
things  will  be  told  about  you;  the  dogs  have  barked  it  ail  out 
loud  enough  to  the  night. " 

"  And  so  they  may!"  replied  Hermas,  defiantly,  and  trying 
in  vain  to  free  himself  from  the  strong  grasp  of  the  anchorite, 
who  held  him  firmly.     "  I  have  done  nothing  wrong." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbor's  wife!"  interrupted 
Paulus,  in  a  tone  of  stern  severity.  "You  have  been  with 
the  centurion's  pretty  wife,  and  were  taken  by  surprise. 
Where  is  your  sheep-skin?" 

Hermas  started,  felt  on  his  shoulder,  and  exclaimed,  strik- 
ing his  fist  against  his  forehead:  "Merciful  Heaven!  I  have 
left  it  there!    The  raging  Gaul  will  find  it. " 

"  He  did  not  actually  see  you  there?"  asked  Paulus,  eagerly. 

"  No,  certainly  not,"  groaned  Hermas;  "  but  the  skin — " 

"  Well,  well,"  muttered  Paulus.  "  Your  sin  is  none  the 
less,  but  something  may  be  done  in  that  case.  Only  think  if 
it  came  to  your  father's  ears;  it  might  cost  him  his  ifie." 

"  And  that  poor  Sirona!"  sighed  Hermas. 

"  Leave  me  to  settle  that,"  exclaimed  Paulus.  "  I  will 
make  everything  straight  with  her.  There,  take  my  sheep- 
skin. You  will  not?  Well,  to  be  sure,  the  man  who  does  not 
fear  to  commit  adultery  would  make  nothing  of  becoming  his 
father's  murderer.  There,  that  is  the  way!  fasten  it  together 
over  your  shoulders;  you  will  need  it,  for  you  must  quit  this 
spot,  and  not  for  to-day  and  to-morrow  only.  You  wanted  to 
go  out  into  the  world,  and  now  you  will  have  the  opportunity 
of  showing  whether  you  really  are  capable  of  walking  on  your 
own  feet.  First  go  to  Eaithu  and  greet  the  pious  Nikon  in  my 
name,  and  tell  him  that  I  remain  here  on  the  mountain,  for 
after  long  praying  in  the  Church  I  have  found  myself  un- 
worthy of  the  office  of  elder  which  they  offered  me.  Then  get 
yourself  carried  by  some  ship's  captain  across  the  Eed  Sea, 
and  wander  up  and  down  the  Egyptian  coast.  The  hordes  of 
the  Blemmyes  have  lately  shown  themselves  there;  keep  your 
eye  on  them,  and  Avhen  tlie  wild  bands  are  plotting  some 
fresh  outbreak  you  can  warn  the  watch  on  the  mountain  peaks; 
how  to  cross  the  sea  and  so  outstrip  them,  it  will  be  your  busi- 
ness to  find  out.    Do  you  feel  bold  enough  and  capable  of  ac* 


HOMO   SUM/  9l 

complishing  this  task?  Yes?  So  I  expected!  Now  may  the 
Lord  guide  you.  I  will  take  care  of  your  father,  and  his  bless- 
ing and  your  mother's  will  rest  upon  you  if  you  sincerely  re- 
pent, and  if  you  now  do  your  duty." 

"  You  shall  learn  that  I  am  a  man,"  cried  Hermas,  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "  My  bow  and  arrows  are  lying  in  your  cave; 
I  will  fetch  them  and  then — ay!  you  shall  see  whether  you  sent 
the  right  man  on  the  errand.  Greet  my  father,  and  once  more 
give  me  your  hand. " 

Paulus  grasped  the  boy's  right  hand,  drew  him  to  him  and 
kissed  his  forehead  with  fatherly  tenderness.     Then  he  said: 

"  In  my  cave,  under  the  green  stone,  you  will  find  six  gold 
pieces;  take  three  of  them  with  you  on  your  journey.  You 
will  probably  need  them — at  any  rate  to  pay  your  passage. 
Now  be  off,  and  get  to  Eaithu  in  good  time. " 

Hermas  hurried  up  the  mountain,  his  head  full  of  the  im- 
portant task  that  had  been  laid  upon  him;  dazzling  visions  of 
the  great  deeds  he  was  to  accomplish  eclipsed  tht  image  of  the 
fair  Sirona,  and  he  was  so  accustomed  to  beheve  in  the  superior 
insight  and  kindness  of  Paulus  that  he  feared  no  longer  for 
Sirona  now  that  his  friend  had  made  her  affair  his  own. 

The  Alexandrian  looked  after  him,  and  breathed  a  short 
prayer  for  him;  then  he  went  down  again  into  the  valley. 

It  was  long  past  midnight,  and  the  moon  was  sinking;  it 
grew  cooler  and  cooler,  and  since  he  had  given  his  sheep-skin 
to  Hermas  he  had  nothing  on  but  his  threadbare  coat.  Never- 
theless he  went  slowly  onward,  stopping  every  now  and  then, 
moving  his  arms  and  speaking  incoherent  words  in  a  low  tone 
to  himself. 

He  thought  of  Hermas  and  Sirona,  of  his  own  youth,  and  of 
how  in  Alexandria  he  himself  had  tapped  at  the  shutters  of  the 
dark-haired  Aso  and  the  fair  Simaitha. 

"  A  child — a  mere  boy,"  he  murmured.  "  Who  would  have 
thought  it?  The  Gaulish  woman  no  doubt  may  be  handsome, 
and  as  for  him,  it  is  a  fact  that  as  he  threw  the  discus  I  was 
myself  surprised  at  his  noble  figure.  And  his  eyes — ay,  he  has 
Magdalen's  eyes!  If  the  Gaul  had  found  him  with  his  wife, 
and  had  run  his  sword  through  his  heart,  he  would  have  gone 
xmpunished  by  the  earthly  judge — however,  his  father  is  spared 
this  sorrow.  In  this  desert  the  old  man  thought  that  his  dar- 
hng  could  not  be  touched  by  the  world  and  its  pleasures.  And 
now?  These  brambles  I  once  thought  lay  dried  up  on  the 
earth,  and  could  never  get  up  to  the  top  of  the  palm-tree  where 
the  dates  ripen;  but  a  bird  flew  by,  and  picked  up  the  berries, 
i*nd  carried  them  into  its  nest  at  the  highest  point  of  the  tro* 


99  HOMO    SUM. 

Who  can  point  out  the  road  that  another  will  take,  ;:iid  say  to- 
day, '  To-morrow  I  shall  find  him  thus  and  not  otherwise?' 
We  fools  flee  into  the  desert  in  order  to  forget  the  world,  and 
the  world  pursues  us  and  clings  to  our  skirts.  Where  are  the 
shears  that  are  keen  enough  to  cut  the  shadow  from  beneath 
our  feet?  What  is  the  prayer  that  can  effectually  release  us — 
bom  of  the  flesh — from  the  burden  of  the  flesh?  My  Ee- 
deemer.  Thou  Only  One,  who  knowest  it,  teach  it  to  me,  the 
basest  of  the  base.'* 


CHAPTER  X. 

Within  a  few  minutes  after  Hermas  had  flung  himself  out 
of  the  window  into  the  roadway,  Phoebicius  walked  into  his 
sleeping-room.  Sirona  had  had  time  to  throw  herself  on  to 
her  couch;  she  was  terribly  frightened,  and  had  turned  her 
face  to  the  wall.  Did  he  actually  know  that  some  one  had 
been  with  her?  And  who  could  have  betrayed  her  and  have 
called  him  home?  Or  could  he  have  come  home  by  accident, 
sooner  than  usual? 

It  was  dark  in  the  room,  and  he  could  not  see  her  face,  and 
yet  she  kept  her  eyes  shut  as  if  asleep,  for  every  fraction  of  a 
minute  in  which  she  could  still  escape  seeing  mm  in  his  fury 
seemed  a  reprieve;  and  yet  her  heart  beat  so  violently  that  it 
seemed  to  her  that  he  must  hear  it,  when  he  approached  the 
bed  with  a  soft  step  that  was  peculiar  to  him.  She  heard  him 
walk  up  and  down,  and  at  last  go  into  the  kitchen  that  adjoined 
the  sleeping-room.  In  a  few  moments  she  perceived,  through 
her  half -closed  eyes,  that  he  had  brought  m  a  light;  he  had 
lighted  a  lamp  at  the  hearth,  and  now  searched  both  the  rooms. 

As  yet  he  had  not  spoken  to  her  nor  opened  his  lips  to  utter 
a  word. 

Now  he  was  in  the  sitting-room,  and  now — involuntarily  she 
drew  herself  into  a  heap  and  pulled  the  coverlet  over  her  head 
— now  he  laughed  aloud,  so  loud  and  scornfully  that  she  felt 
her  hands  and  feet  turn  cold,  and  a  rushing  crimson  mist  float- 
ed before  her  eyes.  Then  the  light  came  back  into  the  bed- 
room, and  came  nearer  and  nearer.  She  felt  her  head  pushed 
by  his  hard  hand,  and  with  a  feeble  scream  she  flung  off  the 
coverlet  and  sat  up. 

Still  he  did  not  speak  a  word,  but  what  she  saw  was  quite 
enough  to  smother  the  last  spark  of  her  courage  and  hope,  for 
her  husband's  eyes  showed  only  the  whites,  his  sallow  features 
Vere  ashy  pale,  and  on  his  brow^  the  branded  mark  of  Mithrad 


HOMO    SUM.  99 

stood  out  more  dearly  than  ever.  In  his  right  hand  he  held 
the  lamp,  in  his  left  Hermas's  sheep-skin. 

As  his  haggard  eye  met  hers  he  held  the  anchorite's  matted 
garments  so  closely  to  her  face  that  it  touched  her.  Then  he 
threw  it  violently  on  the  floor,  and  asked,  in  a  low,  husky 
voice:  "  What  is  that?" 

She  was  silent.  He  went  up  to  the  little  table  near  her  bed ; 
on  it  stood  her  night-draught  in  a  pretty  colored  glass,  that 
Polykarp  had  brought  her  from  Alexandria  as  a  token,  and  with 
the  back  of  his  hand  swept  it  from  the  table,  so  that  it  fell  on 
the  dais,  and  flew  with  a  crash  into  a  thousand  fragments.  She 
screamed,  the  greyhound  sprung  up  and  barked  at  the  Gaul. 
He  seized  the  little  beast's  collar  and  flung  it  so  violently 
across  the  room  that  it  uttered  a  pitiful  cry  of  pain.  The  dog 
had  belonged  to  Sirona  since  she  was  quite  a  girl,  it  had  come 
with  her  to  Home,  and  from  thence  to  the  oasis;  it  clung  to 
her  with  affection,  and  she  to  it,  for  lambe  liked  no  one  to 
caress  and  stroke  her  so  much  as  her  mistress.  She  was  so 
much  alone,  and  the  greyhound  was  always  with  her,  and  not 
only  entertained  her  by  such  tricks  as  any  other  dog  might 
have  learned,  but  was  to  her  a  beloved,  dumb,  but  by  no  means 
deaf,  companion  from  her  early  home,  who  would  prick  its  ears 
when  she  spoke  the  name  of  her  dear  little  sister  in  distant 
Arelas,  from  whom  she  had  not  heard  for  years;  or  it  would 
look  sadly  in  her  face,  and  kiss  her  white  hands  when  longing 
forced  tears  into  her  eyes. 

In  her  solitary,  idle,  childless  existence,  lambe  was  much, 
very  much,  to  her,  and  now,  as  she  saw  her  faithful  companion 
and  friend  creep,  ill-treated  and  whining,  up  to  her  bed — as  the 
supple  animal  tried  in  vain  to  spring  up  and  take  refuge  in 
her  lap,  and  held  out  to  his  mistress  his  trembling,  periiaps 
broken,  little  paw,  fear  vanished  from  the  miserable  young 
woman's  heart — she  sprung  from  her  couch,  took  the  little  dog 
in  her  arms,  and  exclaimed,  with  a  glance  which  flashed  with 
anything  rather  than  fear  or  repentance: 

"  You  do  not  touch  the  poor  little  beast  again,  if  you  take 
my  advice. " 

"  I  will  drown  it  to-morrow  morning,"  replied  Phcebiciua 
with  perfect  indiflference,  but  with  an  evil  smile  on  his  flaccid 
lips.  "  So  many  two-legged  lovers  make  themselves  free  to 
my  house  that  I  do  not  see  why  I  should  share  your  affections 
with  a  quadruped  into  the  bargain.  How  came  this  sheep- 
skin here?" 

Sirona  vouchsafed  no  answer  to  this  last  question,  but  she 
eaclaimed,  in  great  excitement:    "  By  God — by  your  god — ^by 


94  HOMO    SUM. 

the  mighty  Eock,  and  by  all  the  gods!  if  you  do  the  little 
beast  a  harm,  it  will  be  the  last  day  I  stop  in  your  house!'' 

"  Hear  her!"  said  the  centui'iou;  "  and  where  do  you  pro- 
pose to  travel  to?  The  desert  is  wide,  and  there  is  room  and 
to  spare  to  starve  in  it,  and  for  your  bones  to  bleach  there. 
How  grieved  your  lovers  would  be — for  their  sakes  I  will  take 
care  before  drowning  the  dog  to  lock  in  its  mistress. " 

"  Only  try  to  touch  me!  screamed  Sirona,  beside  herself, 
and  springing  to  the  window.  "  If  you  lay  a  finger  on  me  I 
will  call  for  help,  and  Dorothea  and  her  husband  will  protect 
me  against  you. " 

"  Hardly,"  answered  Phoebicius,  dryly.  "  It  would  suit  you 
no  doubt  to  find  yourself  under  the  same  roof  as  that  great  boy 
who  brings  you  colored  glass,  and  throws  roses  into  your  win- 
dow, and  perhaps  has  strewed  the  road  with  them  by  which  he 
found  his  way  to  you  to-day.  But  there  are  nevertheless  laws 
which  protect  the  Roman  citizen  from  criminals  and  impudent 
seducers.  You  were  always  a  great  deal  too  much  in  the  house 
over  there,  and  you  have  exchanged  your  games  with  the  littlo 
screaming  beggars  for  one  with  the  grown-up  child,  the  rose- 
thrower — the  fop,  who,  for  your  sake,  and  not  to  be  recognized, 
covers  up  his  purple  coat  with  a  sheep-skin!  Do  you  think 
you  can  teach  me  anything  about  love-sick  night-wanderers  and 
women?  "I  see  through  it  all!  Not  one  step  do  you  set  hence- 
forth across  Petrus's  threshold.  There  is  the  open  window — 
scream — scream  as  loud  as  you  will,  and  let  all  the  people  know 
of  your  disgrace.  I  have  the  greatest  mind  to  carry  this  sheep- 
skin to  the  judge  the  first  thing  in  the  morning.  I  shall  go 
now,  and  set  the  room  behind  the  kitchen  in  order  for  you; 
there  is  no  window  there  through  which  men  in  sheep-skin  can 
get  into  my  house.  You  shall  live  there  till  you  are  tamed, 
and  kiss  my  feet,  and  confess  what  has  been  going  on  here  to- 
night. I  shall  learn  nothing  from  the  senator's  slaves,  that  I 
very  well  know;  for  you  have  turned  all  their  heads  too — they 
grin  with  delight  when  they  see  you.  All  friends  are  made 
welcome  by  you,  even  when  they  wear  nothing  but  sheep-skin. 
But  they  may  do  what  they  please — I  have  the  right  keeper  for 
you  in  my  own  hand.  I  am  going  at  once — you  may  scream  if 
you  like,  but  I  should  myself  prefer  that  you  should  keep  quiet. 
As  to  the  dog,  we  have  not  yet  heard  the  last  of  the  matter; 
for  the  present  I  will  keep  him  here.  If  you  are  quiet  and 
come  to  your  senses,  he  may  live  for  aught  I  care;  but  if  you 
are  refractory,  a  rope  and  a  stone  can  soon  be  found,  and  the 
stream  runs  close  below.  You  know  I  never  jest — least  of  Cill 
just  now. " 


HOMO    SUM.  95 

Sirona's  whole  frame  was  in  the  most  violent  agitation.  Her 
breath  came  quickly,  her  limbs  trembled,  but  she  could  not 
find  words  to  answer  him. 

Phoebicius  saw  what  was  passing  in  her  mind,  and  he  went 
on:  "You  may  snort  proudly  now;  but  an  hour  will  come 
when  you  will  crawl  up  to  me  like  your  lame  dog  and  pray  for 
mercy.  I  have  another  idea — you  will  want  a  couch  in  the 
dark  room,  and  it  must  be  soft,  or  I  shall  be  blamed.  I  will 
spread  out  the  sheep-skin  for  you.  You  see  I  know  how  to 
value  your  adorer's  offerings.'' 

The  Gaul  laughed  loud,  seized  the  hermit's  garments,  and 
went  with  the  lamp  into  the  dark  room  behind  the  kitchen,  in 
which  vessels  and  utensils  of  various  sorts  were  kept.  These 
he  set  on  one  side  to  turn  it  into  a  sleeping-room  for  his  wife, 
of  whose  guilt  he  was  fully  convinced. ' 

Who  the  man  was  for  whose  sake  she  had  dishonored  him, 
he  knew  not,  for  Miriam  had  said  nothing  more  than,  "  Go 
home,  your  wife  is  laughing  with  her  lover. " 

WhQe  her  husband  was  still  threatening  and  storming, 
Sirona  had  said  to  herself  that  she  would  rather  die  than  live 
any  longer  with  this  man.  That  she  herself  was  not  free  from 
fault  never  occurred  to  her  mind.  He  who  is  punished  more 
severely  than  he  deserves,  easily  overlooks  his  own  fault  in  his 
feeling  for  the  judge's  injustice. 

Phoebicius  was  right;  neither  Petrus  nor  Dorothea  had  it  in 
their  power  to  protect  her  against  him,  a  Roman  citizen.  If 
she  could  not  contrive  to  help  herself  she  was  a  prisoner,  and 
without  air,  light,  and  freedom  she  could  not  live.  During 
his  last  speech  her  resolution  had  been  quickly  matured,  and 
hardly  had  he  turned  his  back  and  crossed  the  threshold  than 
she  hurried  up  to  her  bed,  wrapped  the  trembling  greyhound 
in  the  coverlet,  took  it  in  her  arms  like  a  child,  and  ran  into 
the  sitting-room  with  her  light  burden.  The  shutters  of  the 
window  were  still  open  through  which  Hermas  had  fled  into  the 
open.  With  the  help  of  a  stool  she  took  the  same  way,  let  her- 
self slip  down  from  the  sill  into  the  street,  and  hastened  on 
without  aim  or  goal — inspired  only  by  the  wish  to  escape  dur- 
ance in  the  dark  room,  and  to  burst  every  bond  that  tied  her 
to  her  hated  mate — up  the  church  hill  and  along  the  road 
which  leads  over  the  mountain  to  the  sea. 

Phoebicius  gave  her  a  long  start,  for  after  having  arranged 
her  prison  he  remained  some  time  in  the  little  room  behind  the 
kitchen,  not  in  order  to  give  her  time,  to  collect  his  thoughts 
or  to  reflect  on  his  future  action,  but  simply  because  he  felt 
utterly  exhausted. 


96  HOMO   SUM. 

The  centurion  was  nearly  sixty  years  of  age,  and  his  frame, 
originally  a  powerful  one,  was  now  broken  by  every  sort  ol 
dissipation,  and  could  no  longer  resist  the  effects  of  the  strain 
and  excitement  of  this  night. 

The  lean,  wiry,  and  very  active  man  did  not  usually  fall  into 
these  fits  of  total  enervation  excepting  in  the  .day-time,  for 
after  sundown  a  wonderful  change  would  come  over  the  gray- 
headed  veteran,  who  nevertheless  displayed  much  youthful 
energy  in  the  exercise  of  his  official  duties.  At  night  his 
drooping  eyelids,  that  almost  veiled  his  eyes,  opened  more 
widely,  his  flaccid  hanging  under  lip  closed  firmly,  his  long 
neck  and  narrow  elongated  head  were  held  erect,  and  when,  at 
a  later  hour,  he  went  out  to  drinking-bouts  or  to  the  service  in 
honor  of  Mithras,  he  might  often  still  be  taken  for  a  fine,  in- 
domitable yoimg  man. 

But  when  he  was  drunk  he  was  no  longer  gay,  but  wild, 
braggart,  and  noisy.  It  frequently  happened  that  before  he 
left  the  carouse,  while  he  was  still  in  the  midst  of  his  boon 
companions,  the  syncope  would  come  upon  him  which  had  so 
often  alarmed  Sirona,  and  from  which  he  could  never  feel  per- 
fectly safe  even  when  he  was  on  duty  at  the  head  of  his  soldiers. 

The  vehement  big  man  in  such  moments  offered  a  terrible 
image  of  helpless  impotence;  the  paleness  of  death  would  over- 
spread his  features,  his  back  was  as  if  it  was  broken,  and  he 
lost  his  control  over  every  limb.  His  eyes  only  continued  to 
move,  and  now  and  then  a  shudder  shook  his  frame.  His  peo- 
ple said  that  when  he  was  in  this  condition  the  centurion's 
ghastly  demon  had  entered  into  him,  and  he  himself  believed 
in  this  evil  spirit,  and  dreaded  it;  nay,  he  had  attempted  to  be 
released  through  heathen  spells,  and  even  through  Christian 
exorcisms.  Now  he  sat  in  the  dark  room  on  the  sheep-fell, 
which  in  scorn  of  his  wife  he  had  spread  on  a  hard  wooden 
bench.  His  hands  and  feet  turned  cold,  his  eye  glowed,  and 
the  power  to  move  even  a  finger  had  wholly  deserted  him;  only 
his  lips  twitched,  and  his  inward  eye,  looking  back  on  the  past 
with  preternaturally  sharpened  vision,  saw  far  away  and  be- 
yond the  last  frightful  hour. 

"If,"  thought  he,  "after  my  mad  run  down  the  oasis, 
which  few  younger  men  could  have  vied  with,  I  had  given  the 
reins  to  my  fury  instead  of  restraining  it,  the  demon  would  not 
have  mastered  me  so  easily.  How  that  devil  Miriam's  eyes 
flashed  as  she  told  me  that  a  man  was  betraying  me.  She  cer- 
tainly must  have  seen  the  wearer  of  the  sheep-skin,  but  I  lost 
sight  of  her  before  I  reached  the  oasis;  I  fancy  she  turned  and 
went  up  the  mountain.     AVhat  indeed  might  not  Sircna  have 


HOMO   SUM.  97 

done  to  her?  That  woman  snares  all  hearts  with  her  eyes  as  a 
bird-catcher  snares  birds  with  his  flute.  How  the  fine  gentle- 
men ran  after  her  in  Rome!  Did  she  dishonor  me  there,  I 
wonder?  She  dismissed  the  legate  Quintillus,  who  was  so 
anxious  to  please  me — I  may  thank  that  fool  of  a  woman  that 
he  became  my  enemy — but  he  was  older  even  than  I,  and  she 
likes  young  men  best.  She  is  Uke  all  the  rest  of  them,  and  I 
of  all  men  might  have  known  it.  It  is  the  way  of  the  world; 
to-day  one  gives  a  blow  and  to-morrow  takes  one. " 

A  sad  smile  passed  over  his  hps,  then  his  features  settled  into 
a  stern  gravity,  for  various  unwelcome  images  rose  clearly  be- 
fore his  mind,  and  would  not  be  got  rid  of. 

His  conscience  stood  in  inverse  relation  to  the  vigor  of  his 
body.  When  he  was  well,  his  too  darkly  stained  past  lif^ 
troubled  him  little;  but  when  he  was  unmanned  by  weakness, 
he  was  incapable  of  fighting  the  ghastly  demon  that  forced 
upon  his  memory  in  painful  vividness  those  very  deeds  which 
he  would  most  willingly  have  forgotten.  In  such  hours  he 
must  need  remember  his  friend,  his  benefactor,  and  superior 
officer,  the  tribune  Servianus,  whose  fair  young  wife  he  had 
tempted  with  a  thousand  arts  to  forsake  her  husband  and 
child  and  fiy  with  him  into  the  wide  world;  and  at  this  mo- 
ment a  bewildering  illusion  made  him  fancy  that  he  was  the 
tribune  Servianus  and  yet  at  the  same  time  himself.  Every 
hour  of  pain,  and  the  whole  bitter  anguish  that  his  betrayed 
benefactor  had  suffered  through  his  act  when  he  had  seduced 
Glycera,  he  himself  now  seemed  to  reahze,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  enemy  that  had  betrayed  him,  Servianus,  was  none 
other  than  himself,  Phoebicius,  the  Gaul.  He  tried  to  protect 
himself,  and  meditated  revenge  against  the  seducer,  and  still 
he  could  not  altogether  lose  the  sense  of  his  own  identity. 

This  whirl  of  mad  imagining,  which  he  vainly  endeavored  to 
make  clear  to  himself,  threatened  to  distract  his  reason,  and 
he  groaned  aloud;  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  brought  him 
back  to  actuality. 

He  was  Phoebicius  again  and  not  another,  that  he  knew  now, 
and  yet  he  could  not  completely  bring  himself  to  comprehend 
the  situation.  The  image  of  the  lovely  Glycera,  who  had  fol- 
lowed him  to  Alexandria,  and  whom  he  had  there  abandoned 
when  he  had  squandered  his  last  piece  of  money  and  her  last 
costly  jewels  in  the  Greek  city,  no  longer  appeared  to  him 
alone,  but  always  side  by  side  with  his  wife  Sirona. 

Glycera  had  been  a  melancholy  sweetheart,  who  had  wept 
much  and  laughed  little  after  running  away  from  her  hus- 
band; he  fancied  he  could  hew  her  speaking  soft  words  of  re- 


98  -.  HOMO  sms. 

proach,  while  Sirona  defied  him  with  loud  threats,  and  dared 
to  nod  and  signal  to  the  senator's  son  Polykarp. 

The  weary  dreamer  angrily  shook  himself,  collected  his 
thoughts,  doubled  his  fist  and  lifted  it  angrily;  this  movement 
was  the  first  sign  of  returning  physical  energy;  he  stretched 
his  limbs  like  a  man  awaking  from  sleep,  rubbed  his  eyes, 
pressed  his  hands  to  his  temples;  by  degrees  full  consciousness 
returned  to  him,  and  with  it  the  recollection  of  all  that  had  oc- 
curred in  the  last  hour  or  two. 

He  hastily  left  the  dark  room,  refreshed  himself  in  the 
kitchen  with  a  gulp  of  wine,  and  went  up  to  the  open  window 
to  gaze  at  the  stars. 

It  was  long  past  midnight;  he  was  reminded  of  his  compan- 
ions now  sacrificing  on  the  mountains,  and  addressed  a  long 
prayer  "  to  the  crown,"  "  the  invincible  sun-god,"  "  the  great 
light,"  "  the  god  begotten  of  the  rock,"  and  to  many  other 
names  of  Mithras;  for  since  he  had  belonged  to  the  mystics  of 
this  divinity,  he  had  become  a  zealous  devotee,  and  could  fast, 
too,  with  extraordinary  constancy.  He  had  already  passed 
through  several  of  the  eighty  trials,  to  which  a  man  had.  to  sub- 
ject himself  before  he  could  attain  to  the  highest  grades  of  the 
initiated,  and  the  weakness  which  had  just  now  overpowered 
him,  had  attacked  him  for  the  first  time  after  he  had  for  a 
whole  week  lain  for  hours  in  the  snow,  besides  fasting  severely 
in  order  to  attain  the  grade  of  "  Lion." 

Sirona's  rigorous  mind  was  revolted  by  all  these  practices, 
and  the  decision  with  which  she  had  always  refused  to  take 
any  part  in  them  had  widened  the  breach  which,  without  that, 
parted  her  from  her  husband.  Phoebicius  was,  in  his  fashion, 
very  much  in  earnest  with  all  these  things;  for  they  alone 
saved  him  in  some  measure  from  himself,  from  dark  memories, 
and  from  the  fear  of  meeting  the  reward  of  his  evil  deeds  in  a 
future  life,  while  Sirona  found  her  best  comfort  in  the  remem- 
brance of  her  early  life,  and  so  gathered  courage  to  endure  the 
miserable  present  cheerfully,  and  to  hold  fast  to  hope  for  bet- 
ter times. 

Phoebicius  ended  his  prayer  to-day — a  prayer  for  strength  to 
iJreak  his  wife's  strong  spirit,  for  a  successful  issue  to  his  re- 
venge on  her  seducer — ended  it  without  haste,  and  with  care- 
ful observance  of  all  the  prescribed  forms.  Then  he  took  two 
strong  ropes  from  the  wall,  pulled  himself  up,  straight  and 
proud,  as  if  he  were  about  to  exhort  his  soldiers  to  courage  be- 
fore a  battle,  cleared  his  throat  like  an  orator  in  the  Forum 
before  he  begins  his  discourse,  and  entered  the  bedroom  with  a 
dignified  demeanor.     Not  the  smallest  suspicion  of  the  possi- 


HOMO    SUM.  99 

bnity  of  her  escape  troubled  his  sense  of  security  when,  not 
finding  Sirona  in  the  sleeping-room,  he  went  into  the  sitting- 
room  CO  carry  out  the  meditated  punishment.  Here  again — 
no  one. 

He  paused  in  astonishment;  but  the  thought  that  she  could 
have  fled  appeared  to  him  so  insane  that  he  immediately  and 
decisively  dismissed  it.  No  doubt  she  feared  his  wrath,  and 
was  hidden  under  her  bed  or  behind  the  curtain  which  covered 
his  clothes.  "  The  dog,''  thought  he,  "  is  still  cowering  by 
her — "  and  he  began  to  make  a  noise,  half  whistling,  and  half 
hissing,  which  lambe  could  not  bear,  and  which  always  pro- 
voked her  to  bark  angrily — but  in  vain.  All  was  still  in  the 
Vacant  room,  still  as  death.  He  was  now  seriously  anxious;  at 
first  deliberately,  and  then  with  rapid  haste,  he  threw  the  hght 
under  every  vessel,  into  every  corner,  behind  every  cloth,  and 
rummaged  in  places  that  not  even  a  child — nay,  hardly  a  fright- 
ened bird — could  have  availed  itself  of  for  concealment.  At  last 
tiis  right  hand  fairly  dropped  the  ropes,  and  his  left,  in  which 
he  held  the  lamp,  began  to  tremble.  He  found  the  shutters 
of  the  sleeping-room  open,  where  Sirona  had  been  sitting  on 
the  seat  looking  at  the  moon,  before  Hermas  had  come  upon 
the  scene.  "  Then  she  is  not  here!"  he  muttered,  and  setting 
the  lamp  on  the  httle  table,  from  which  he  had  just  now  flung 
Polykarp's  glass,  he  tore  open  the  door,  and  hurried  into  the 
court-yard.  That  she  could  have  swung  herself  into  the  road, 
and  have  set  out  in  the  night  for  the  open  desert,  had  not  yet 
entered  into  his  mind.  He  shook  the  door  that  closed  in  the 
homestead,  and  found  it  locked;  the  watch-dogs  roused  them- 
selves, and  gave  tongue,  when  Phcebicius  turned  to  Petrus's 
house,  and  began  to  knock  at  the  door  with  the  brazen  knocker, 
at  first  softly  and  then  with  growing  anger;  he  considered  it 
as  certain  that  his  wife  had  sought  and  found  protection  under 
the  senator's  roof.  He  could  have  shouted  with  rage  and 
anguish,  and  yet  he  hardly  thought  of  his  wife  and  danger  of 
losing  her,  but  only  of  Polykarp  and  the  disgrace  he  had 
wrought  him  and  the  reparation  he  would  exact  from  him  and 
his  parents,  who  had  dared  to  tamper  with  his  household  rights 
— his,  the  imperial  centurion' s. 

What  was  Sirona  to  him?  In  the  flush  of  an  hour  of  excite- 
ment he  had  hnked  her  destiny  to  his. 

At  Arelas,  about  two  years  since,  one  of  his  comrades  had 
joined  their  circle  of  boon  companions,  and  had  related  thai 
he  had  been  the  witness  of  a  remarkable  scene.  A  number  ol 
young  fellows  had  surrounded  a  boy  and  had  unmercifully 
beaten  him — he  himself  knew  not  wherefore.     The  little  one 


100  HOMO    SUM. 

&ad  defended  himself  bravely,  but  was  at  last  overcome  by 
numbers.  "  Then  suddenly,"  continued  the  soldier,  "  the 
door  of  a  house  near  the  circus  opened,  and  a  young  girl  with 
long  golden  hair  flew  out,  and  drove  the  boys  to  flight,  and  re- 
leased the  victim,  her  brother,  from  his  tormentors.  She 
looked  like  a  lioness,"  cried  the  narrator; "  Sironashe  is  called, 
and  of  all  the  pretty  girls  of  Arelas,  she  is  beyond  a  doubt  the 
prettiest."  This  opinion  was  confirmed  on  all  sides,  and 
Phoebicius,  who  at  that  time  had  just  been  admitted  to  the 
grade  of  "  Lion  "  among  the  worshipers  of  Mithras,  and  liked 
very  well  to  hear  himself  called  "the  Lion,"  exclaimed,  "I 
have  long  been  seeking  a  Lioness,  and  here  it  seems  to  me  that 
I  have  found  one.  Phoebicius  and  Sirona — the  two  names 
sound  very  finely  together. " 

On  the  following  day  he  asked  Sirona  of  her  father  for  his 
wife,  and  as  he  had  to  set  out  for  Eome  in  a  few  days  the  wed- 
ding was  promptly  celebrated.  She  had  never  before  quitted 
Arelas,  and  knew  not  what  she  was  giving  up  when  she  took 
leave  of  her  father's  house  perhaps  forever.  In  Home  Phoebi- 
cius and  his  young  wife  met  again;  there  many  admired  the 
beautiful  woman,  and  made  every  efEort  to  obtain  her  favor, 
but  to  him  she  was  only  a  lightly  won,  and  therefore  lightly 
valued,  possession;  nay,  ere  long  no  more  than  a  burden,  orna- 
mental no  doubt,  but  troublesome  to  guard.  When  presently 
his  handsome  wife  attracted  the  notice  of  the  legate,  he  en- 
deavored to  gain  profit  and  advancement  through  her,  but 
Sirona  had  rebuffed  Quintillus  with  such  insulting  disrespect, 
that  his  superior  officer  became  the  centurion's  enemy,  and 
contrived  to  procure  his  removal  to  the  oasis,  which  was  tanta- 
mount to  banishment. 

From  that  time  he  had  regarded  her,  too,  as  his  enemy,  and 
firmly  believed  that  she  designedly  showed  herself  most  friend- 
ly to  those  who  seemed  most  obnoxious  to  him,  and  among 
these  he  reckoned  Polykarp. 

Once  more  the  knocker  sounded  on  the  senator's  door;  it 
opened,  and  Petrus  himself  stood  before  the  raging  Gaul,  a 
lamp  in  his  hand. 

CHAPTER  XL 

The  unfortunate  Paulus  sat  on  a  stone  bench  in  front  of 
the  senator's  door,  and  shivered;  for,  as  dawn  approached,  the 
night-air  grew  cooler,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  the  warmth 
of  the  sheep-skin,  which  he  had  now  given  to  Hermas.  In  his 
hand  he  held  the  key  of  the  church,  which  he  had  promised  the 


noMO  SUM.  101 

door-keeper  to  deliver  to  Petrus;  but  all  was  so  still  in  the 
senator's  house  that  he  shrunk  from  rousing  the  sleepers. 

"  What  a  strange  night  this  has  been!"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self, as  he  drew  his  short  and  tattered  tunic  closer  together. 
"  Even  if  it  were  warmer,  and  if,  instead  of  this  threadbare 
rag,  I  had  a  sack  of  feathers  to  wrap  myself  in,  still  I  should 
feel  a  cold  shiver  if  the  spirits  of  hell  that  wander  about  here 
*7erfc  to  meet  me  again.  Now  I  have  actually  seen  one  with 
my  own  eyes.  Demons  in  women's  form  rush  up  the  mount- 
ain out  of  the  oasis  to  tempt  and  torture  us  in  our  sleep. 
What  could  it  have  been  that  the  goblin  in  a  white  robe  and 
with  flowing  hair  held  in  its  arms?  Very  likely  the  stone  with 
which  the  incubus  loads  our  breast  when  he  torments  us.  The 
other  one  seemed  to  fly,  but  I  did  not  see  its  wings.  That 
side  building  must  be  where  the  Gaul  lives  with  his  ungodly 
wife,  who  has  ensnared  my  poor  Hermas.  I  wonder  whether 
she  is  really  so  beautiful!  But  what  can  a  youth  who  has 
grown  up  among  rocks  and  caves  know  of  the  charms  of 
women?  He  would,  of  course,  think  the  first  who  looked 
kindly  at  him  the  most  enchanting  of  her  sex.  Besides,  she  is 
fair,  and  therefore  a  rare  bird  among  the  sun-burned  bipeds  of 
the  desert.  The  centurion  surely  can  not  have  found  the 
sheep-skin,  or  all  would  not  be  so  still  here;  once  since  I  have 
been  here  an  ass  has  brayed,  once  a  camel  has  groaned,  and 
now  already  the  first  cock  is  crowing;  but  not  a  sound  have  I 
heard  from  human  lips,  not  even  a  snore  from  the  stout  sena- 
tor or  his  buxom  wife  Dorothea,  and  it  would  be  strange  indeed 
if  they  did  not  both  snore. " 

He  rose,  went  up  to  the  window  of  Phoebicius's  dwelling, 
and  listened  at  the  half -open  shutters,  but  all  was  stni. 

An  hour  ago  Miriam  had  been  Ustening  under  Sirona's  room; 
after  betraying  her  to  Phoebicius  she  had  followed  him  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  had  slipped  back  into  the  court-yard  through  the 
ijtables.  She  felt  that  she  must  learn  what  was  happening 
within,  and  what  fate  had  befallen  Hermas  and  Sirona  at  the 
hands  of  the  infuriated  Gaul.  She  was  prepared  for  anything, 
and  the  thought  that  the  centurion  might  have  killed  them 
both  with  the  sword  filled  her  with  bitter-sweet  satisfaction. 
Then,  seeing  the  light  through  the  crack  between  the  partly 
open  wooden  shutters,  she  softly  pushed  them  further  apart, 
and,  resting  her  bare  feet  against  the  wall,  she  raised  herself 
to  look  in. 

She  saw  Sirona  sitting  up  upon  her  couch,  and  opposite  to 
her  the  Gaul  with  pale  distorted  features;  at  his  feet  lay  the 
sheep-skin;  in  his  right  hand  he  held  the  lamp,  and  its  light 


102  HOMO    SUM. 

fell  on  the  paved  floor  in  front  of  the  bed,  and  was  reflected  in 
a  large  dart-red  pool. 

"  That  is  blood,"  thought  she,  and  she  shuddered  and  closed 
her  eyes. 

When  she  reopened  them  she  saw  Sirona's  face,  with  crimson 
cheeks,  turned  toward  her  husband;  she  was  unhurt — but 
Hermas? 

'  That  is  his  blood!"  she  thought,  with  anguish,  and  a  voice 
Beemed  to  scream  in  her  very  heart,  "I,  his  murderess,  have 
shed  it." 

Her  hands  lost  their  hold  of  the  shutters,  her  feet  touched 
the  pavement  of  the  yard,  and,  driven  by  her  bitter  anguish  of 
soul,  she  fled  out  by  the  way  she  had  come — out  into  the  open 
and  up  to  the  mountain.  She  felt  that  rather  would  she  defy 
the  prowling  panthers,  the  night-chill,  hunger  and  thirst,  than 
appear  again  before  l)ame  Dorothea,  the  senator,  and  Mar- 
thana  with  this  guilt  on  her  soul;  and  the  flying  Miriam  was 
one  of  the  gobliu  forms  that  had  terrified  Paulus. 

The  patient  anchorite  sat  down  again  on  the  stone  seat. 
"  The  frost  is  really  cruel,"  thought  he,  "  and  a  very  good 
thing  is  such  a  woolly  sheep-skin;  but  the  Saviour  endured  far 
other  sufEerings  than  these,  and  for  what  did  I  quit  the  world 
but  to  imitate  Him,  and  to  endure  to  the  end  here  that  I  may 
win  the  joys  of  the  other  world.  There,  where  angels  soar, 
man  will  need  no  wretched  ram's-fell,  and  this  time  certainly 
selfishness  has  been  far  from  me,  for  I  really  and  truly  suffer 
for  another — I  am  freezing  for  Hermas,  and  to  spare  the  old 
man  pain.  I  would  it  were  even  colder!  Nay,  I  will  never, 
absolutely  never  again,  lay  a  skeep-skin  over  my  shoulders." 

Paulus  nodded  his  head  as  if  to  signify  assent  to  his  own  re- 
solve; but  presently  he  looked  graver,  for  again  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  was  walking  in  a  wrong  path. 

"Ay!  Man  achieves  a  handful  of  good,  and  forthwith  his 
heart  swells  with  a  camel-load  of  pride.  What  though  my 
teeth  are  chattering,  I  am  none  the  less  a  most  miserable  creat- 
ure. How  it  tickled  my  vanity,  in  spite  of  all  my  meditations 
and  scruples,  when  they  came  from  Eaithu  and  offered  me  the 
office  of  elder;  I  felt  more  triumphant  the  first  time  I  won  with 
the  quadriga,  but  I  was  scarcely  more  puffed  up  with  pride 
then  than  I  was  yesterday.  How  many  who  think  to  follow 
the  Lord  strive  only  to  be  exalted  as  He  is;  they  keep  well  out 
of  the  way  of  His  abasement.  Thou,  oh,  Thou  Most  High, 
ftrt  my  witness  that  I  earnestly  seek  it,  but  so  soon  as  the 
thorns  tear  my  flesh  the  drops  of  blood  turn  to  roses,  and  if  I 
j>ut  them  aside,  others  come  and  still  filing  garlands  in  my 


HOMO    SUM.  103 

\?ay.  I  verily  believe  that  it  is  as  hard  here  on  earth  to  fine 
pain  without  pleasure  as  pleasure  without  pain.  •" 

While  thus  he  meditated  his  teeth  chattered  with  cold,  but 
suddenly  his  reflections  were  interrupted,  for  the  dogs  set  up  a 
loud  barking.     Phoebicius  was  knocking  at  the  senator's  door. 

Paulus  rose  at  once  and  approached  the  gate-way.  He  oould 
hear  every  word  that  was  spoken  in  the  court-yard:  the  deep 
voice  was  the  senator's,  the  high  sharp  tones  must  be  the  cen- 
turion's. 

Phoebicius  was  demanding  his  wife  back  from  Petrus,  as  she 
had  hidden  in  his  house,  while  Petrus  positively  declared  that 
Sirona  had  not  crossed  his  threshold  since  the  morning  of  the 
previous  day. 

In  spite  of  the  vehement  and  indignant  tones  in  which  his 
lodger  spoke,  the  senator  remained  perfectly  calm,  and  pres- 
ently went  away  to  ask  his  wife  whether  she  by  chance,  while 
he  was  asleep,  had  opened  the  house  to  the  missing  woman. 
Paulus  heard  the  soldier's  steps  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
court-yard,  but  they  soon  ceased,  for  Dame  Dorothea  appeared 
at  the  door  with  her  husband,  and  on  her  part  emphatically 
declared  that  the  knew  nothing  of  Sirona. 

"  Your  son  Polykarp,  then,"  interrupted  Phoebicius,  "  will 
be  better  informed  of  her  whereabouts. ' 

"  My  son  has  been  since  yesterday  at  Eaithu  on  business," 
said  Petrus,  resolutely  but  evasively;  "we  expect  him  home 
to-day  only. " 

"  It  would  seem  that  he  has  been  quick,  and  has  returned 
much  sooner,"  retorted  Phoebicius.  "  Our  preparations  for 
sacrificing  on  the  mountain  were  no  secret,  and  the  absence  of 
the  master  of  the  house  is  the  opportunity  for  thieves  to  break 
in — above  all,  for  lovers  who  throw  roses  into  their  ladies'  win- 
dows. You  Christians  boast  that  you  regard  the  marriage  tie 
as  sacred,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  you  apply  the  rule  only  to 
your  fellow-believers.  Your  sons  may  make  free  to  take  their 
pleasure  among  the  wives  of  the  heathen;  it  only  remains  to 
be  proved  whether  the  heathen  husbands  will  be  trifled  with  or 
not.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  am  inclined  for  anything 
rather  than  jesting.  I  would  have  you  to  understand  that  I 
will  never  let  Caesar's  uniform,  which  I  wear,  be  stained  by 
disgrace,  and  that  I  am  minded  to  search  your  house,  and  if  I 
find  my  undutif ul  wife  and  your  son  within  its  walls,  I  will 
carry  them  and  you  before  the  judge,  and  sue  for  my  rights." 

"  You  will  seek  in  vain,"  replied  Petrus,  commanding  him- 
self with  difficulty.  "  My  word  is  yea  or  nay,  and  I  repeat 
once  more  no,  we  harbor  neither  her  nor  him.    As  for  Doro- 


104  HOMO   SUM. 

thea  and  myself,  neither  of  us  is  inclined  to  interfere  in  your 
concerns,  but  neither  will  we  permit  another — be  he  whom  he 
may — to  interfere  in  ours.  This  threshold  shall  never  be 
crossed  by  any  but  those  to  whom  I  grant  permission,  or  by 
the  emperor's  judge,  to  whom  I  must  yield.  You  I  forbid  to 
enter.  Sirona  is  not  here,  and  you  would  do  better  to  seek  her 
elsewhere  than  to  fritter  away  your  time  here." 

"  I  do  not  require  your  advice!"  cried  the  centurion,  wrath- 
fully. 

"  And  I,"  retorted  Petrus,  "  do  not  feel  myself  called  upon 
to  arrange  your  matrimonial  difficulties.  Besides  you  can  get 
back  Sirona  without  our  help,  for  it  is  always  more  difficult  to 
keep  a  wife  safe  in  the  house  than  to  fetch  her  back  when  she 
has  run  away." 

"  You  shall  learn  whom  you  have  to  deal  with!"  threatened 
the  centurion,  and  he  threw  a  glance  round  at  the  slaves,  who 
had  collected  in  the  court.,  and  who  had  been  joined  by  the 
senator's  eldest  son.  "  I  shall  call  my  people  together  at 
once,  and  if  you  have  the  seducer  among  you  we  will  intercept 
his  escape." 

"  Only  wait  an  hour,"  said  Dorothea,  now  taking  up  the 
word,  while  she  gently  touched  her  husband's  hand,  for  his  self- 
control  was  almost  exhausted,  "  and  you  will  see  Polykarp  ride 
home  on  his  father's  horse.  Is  it  only  from  the  roses  that  my 
son  threw  into  your  wife's  window  that  you  suppose  him  to  be 
her  seducer — she  plays  so  kindly  with  all  his  brothers  and  sis- 
ters— or  are  there  other  reasons  which  move  you  to  insult  and 
hurt  us  with  so  heavy  an  accusation?" 

Often  when  wrathful  men  threaten  to  meet  with  an  explo- 
sion, like  black  thunder-clouds,  a  word  from  the  mouth  of  a 
sensible  woman  gives  them  pause,  and  restrains  them  like  a 
breath  of  soft  wind. 

Phoebicius  had  no  mind  to  listen  to  any  speech  from  Poly- 
karp's  mother,  but  her  question  suggested  to  him  for  the  first 
time  a  rapid  retrospect  of  all  that  had.  occurred,  and  he  could 
not  conceal  from  himself  that  his  suspicions  rested  on  weak 
grounds.  And  at  the  same  time  he  now  said  to  himself  that 
if  indeed  Sirona  had  fled  into  the  desert  instead  of  to  the  sena- 
tor's house  he  was  wasting  time,  and  letting  the  start,  which 
she  had  already  gained,  increase  in  a  fatal  degree. 

But  few  secoiitls  were  needed  for  these  reflections,  and  as  he 
was  accustomeil,  when  need  arose,  to  control  himself,  he  said: 

"  We  must  see— some  moans  must  be  found — "  and  then 
without  any  greeting  to  his  host,  he  slowly  returned  to  his  own 
house.     But  he  had  not  reached  the  door,  when  he  heard  hoofs 


HOMO    SUM.  105 

on  the  road,  and  Petrus  called  after  him,  "  Grant  us  a  few 
minutes  longer,  for  here  comes  Polykarp,  and  he  can  justify 
himself  to  you  in  his  own  person. " 

The  centurion  paused,  the  senator  signed  to  old  Jethro  to 
open  the  gate;  a  man  was  heard  to  spring  from  his  saddle,  but 
it  was  an  Amalekite — and  not  Polykarp — who  came  into  the 
com"t. 

"  What  news  do  you  bring?"  asked  the  senator,  turning 
half  to  the  messenger  and  half  to  the  centurion. 

"  My  lord  Polykarp,  your  son/'  replied  the  Amalekite — a 
dark  brown  man  of  ripe  years  with  supple  limbs,  and  a  sharp 
tongue — "  sends  his  greetings  to  you  and  to  the  mistress,  and 
would  have  you  to  know  that  before  midday  he  will  arrive  at 
home  with  eight  workmen,  whom  he  has  engaged  in  liaithu. 
Dame  Dorothea  must  be  good  enough  to  make  ready  for  them 
all  and  to  prepare  a  meal." 

"  When  did  you  part  from  my  son?"  inquired  Petrus. 

"  Two  hours  before  sundown. " 

Petrus  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  for  he  had  not  till  now  been 
perfectly  convinced  of  his  son's  innocence;  but,  far  from  tri- 
umphing or  making  Phoebicius  feel  the  injustice  he  had  done 
him,  he  said  kindly — for  he  felt  some  sympathy  with  the  Gaul 
in  his  misfortune: 

"  I  wish  the  messenger  could  also  give  some  news  of  your 
wife's  retreat;  she  found  it  hard  to  accommodate  herself  to  the 
dull  life  here  in  the  oasis,  perhaps  she  has  only  disappeared  in 
order  to  seek  a  town  which  may  offer  more  variety  to  such  a 
beautiful  young  creature  than  this  quiet  spot  in  the  desert. " 

Phoebicius  waved  his  hand  with  a  negative  movement,  im- 
plying that  he  knew  better,  and  said: 

"  I  will  show  you  what  your  nice  night-bird  left  in  my  nest. 
It  may  be  that  you  can  tell  me  to  whom  it  belongs." 

Just  as  he  hastily  stepped  across  the  court-yard  to  his  own 
dwelhng  Paulus  entered  by  the  now  open  gate;  he  greeted  the 
senator  and  his  family,  and  offered  Petrus  the  key  of  the 
church. 

The  sun  meanwhile  had  risen,  and  the  Alexandrian  blushed 
to  show  himself  in  Dame  Dorothea's  presence  in  his  short  and 
ragged  undergarment,  which  was  quite  inefficient  to  cover  the 
still  athletic  mold  of  his  limbs.  Petrus  had  heard  nothing  but 
good  of  Paul  us,  and  yet  he  measured  him  now  with  no  friendly 
eye,  for  all  that  wore  the  aspect  of  extravagance  repelled  his 
temperate  and  methodical  nature.  Paulus  was  made  conscious 
of  what  was  passing  in  the  senator's  mind  when,  without 
vouchsafing  a  single  word,  he  took  the  key  from  his  hand.     It 


109  HOMO    SUH. 

was  not  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  that  this  man  should 
think  ill  of  him,  and  he  said,  with  some  embarrassment: 

*'  We  do  not  usually  go  among  people  without  a  sheep-skin, 
but  I  have  lost  mine." 

Hardly  had  he  uttered  the  words,  when  Phcebicius  came  back 
with  Hermas's  sheep-skin  in  his  hand,  and  cried  out  to  Petrus: 

"  This  I  found  on  my  return  home,  in  our  sleeping-room." 

"  And  when  have  you  ever  seen  Polykarpin  such  a  mantle?" 
asked  Dorothea. 

"  When  the  gods  visit  the  daughters  of  men,"  replied  the 
centurion,  "  they  have  always  made  choice  of  strange  disguises. 
Why  should  not  a  perfumed  Alexandrian  gentleman  transform 
himself  for  once  into  one  of  those  rough  fools  on  the  mount- 
ain? However,  even  old  Homer  sometimes  nodded — and  I  con- 
fess that  I  was  in  error  with  regard  to  your  son.  I  meant  no 
offense,  senator!  You  have  lived  here  longer  than  I;  who  can 
have  made  me  a  present  of  this  skin,  which  stUl  seems  to  be 
pretty  new — horns  and  all?" 

Petrus  examined  and  felt  the  skin.  "  This  is  an  anchorite's 
garment,"  he  said;  "the  penitents  on  the  mountain  are  all 
accustomed  to  wear  such. " 

"  It  is  one  of  those  rascals  then  that  has  found  his  way  into 
my  house!"  exclaimed  the  centurion.  "  I  bear  Caesar's  com- 
mission, and  I  am  to  exterminate  all  vagabonds  that  trouble 
the  dwellers  in  the  oasis,  or  travelers  in  the  desert.  Thus  run 
the  orders  which  I  brought  with  me  from  Eome.  I  will  drive 
the  low  fellows  together  like  deer  for  hunting,  for  they  are  all 
rogues  and  villains,  and  I  shall  know  how  to  torture  them 
until  I  find  the  right  one." 

"  The  emperor  will  ill-requite  you  for  that,"  replied  Petrus. 
"  They  are  pious  Christians,  and  you  know  that  Constantino 
himself—" 

"  Constantine!"  exclaimed  the  centurion,  scornfully.  "  Per- 
haps he  will  let  himself  be  baptized,  for  water  can  hurt  no  one, 
and  he  can  not,  like  the  great  Diocletian,  exterminate  the 
masses  who  run  after  the  crucified  miracle-monger,  without 
depopulating  the  country.  Look  at  these  coins;  here  is  the 
image  of  Caesar,  and  what  is  this  on  the  other  side?  Is  this 
your  Nazarene,  or  is  it  the  old  god,  the  immortal  and  invinci- 
ble sun?  And  is  that  man  one  of  your  creed,  who  in  Con- 
stantiaople  adores  Tyche  and  the  Dioscuri  Castor  and  Pollux? 
The  water  he  is  baptized  with  to-day  he  will  wipe  away  to- 
morrow, and  the  old  gods  will  be  his  defenders,  if  in  more 
peaceful  times  he  maintains  them  against  your  superstitions.'' 

"  But  it  will  be  a  good  while  till  then,    said  Petrus  coolly. 


HOMO    SUM.  lot 

**  For  the  present,  at  least,  Constantine  is  the  protector  of  tho 
Christians.  I  advise  you  to  put  your  affair  into  the  hands  of 
Bishop  Agapitus. " 

"  That  he  may  serve  me  up  a  dish  of  your  doctrine,  which  is 
bad  even  for  women,"  said  the  centurion,  laughing;  "and 
that  I  may  kiss  my  enemies'  feet?  They  are  a  vile  rabble  up 
there,  I  repeat,  and  they  shall  be  treated  as  such  till  I  have 
found  my  man.     I  shall  begin  the  hunt  this  very  day. " 

"  And  this  very  day  you  may  end  it,  for  the  sheep-skin  is 
mine. " 

It  was  Paulus  who  spoke  these  words  in  a  loud  and  decided 
tone;  all  eyes  were  at  once  turned  on  him  and  on  the  centurion. 

Petrus  and  the  slaves  had  fi-equently  seen  the  anchorite,  but 
never  without  a  sheep-skin  similar  to  that  which  Phoebicius 
held  in  his  hand.  The  anchorite's  self -accusation  must  have 
appeared  incredible,  and  indeed  scarcely  possible,  to  all  who 
knew  Paulus  and  Sirona;  and  nevertheless  no  one,  not  even 
the  senator,  doubted  it  for  an  instant.  Dame  Dorothea  only 
shook  her  head  incredulously,  and  though  she  could  find  no  ex- 
planation for  the  occurrence,  she  still  could  not  but  say  to  her- 
self that  this  man  did  not  look  like  a  lover,  and  that  Sirona 
would  hardly  have  forgotten  her  duty  for  his  sake.  She  could 
nok  indeed  bring  herself  to  believe  in  Sirona's  guilt  at  all,  for 
she  was  heartily  well-disposed  toward  her;  besides — though  it, 
no  doubt,  was  not  right — her  motherly  vanity  inclined  her  to 
beheve  that  if  the  handsome  young  woman  had  indeed  sinned, 
she  would  have  preferred  her  fine  tall  Polykarp — whose  roses 
and  flaming  glances  she  blamed  in  all  sincerity — to  this  shaggy, 
wild-looking  gray  beard. 
-^  Quite  otherwise  thought  the  centurion.  He  was  quite  ready 
to  beheve  in  the  anchorite's  confession,  for  the  more  un- 
worthy the  man  for  whom  Sirona  had  broken  faith,  the  greater 
seemed  her  guilt,  and  the  more  unpardonable  her  levity;  and 
to  his  man's  vanity  it  seemed  to  him  easier — particularly  in  the 
presence  of  such  witnesses  as  Petrus  and  Dorothea — to  bear  the 
fact  that  his  wife  should  have  sought  variety  and  pleasure  at 
any  cost,  even  at  that  of  devoting  herself  to  a  ragged  beggar, 
than  that  she  should  have  given  her  affections  to  a  younger, 
handsomer,  and  worthier  man  than  himself.  He  had  sinned 
much  against  her,  but  all  that  lay  like  feathers  on  his  side  of 
the  scales,  while  that  which  she  had  done  weighed  down  hers 
like  a  load  of  lead.  He  began  to  feel  like  a  man  who,  in  wad- 
ing through  a  bog,  has  gained  firm  ground  with  one  foot,  and 
\»11  these  feelings  gave  him  energy  to  walk  up  to  the  anchorit? 


108  HOMO    SUM. 

with  a  self-control  of  which  he  was  not  generally  master,  ex- 
cepting when  on  duty  at  the  hea<i  of  his  soldiers. 

He  approached  the  Alexandrian  with  an  assumption  of  dig- 
nity and  a  demeanor  which  testified  to  his  formerly  having 
taken  part  in  the  representations  of  tragedies  in  the  theaters 
of  great  cities.  Paulus,  on  his  part,  did  not  retreat  by  a  single 
step,  but  looked  at  him  with  a  smile  that  alarmed  Petrus  and 
the  rest  of  the  by-standers.  The  law  put  the  anchorite  .abso- 
lutely into  the  power  of  the  outraged  husband,  but  Phoebicius 
did  not  seem  disposed  to  avail  himself  of  his  rights,  and  noth- 
ing but  contempt  and  loathing  were  perceptible  in  his  tone,  as 
he  said: 

"  A  man  who  takes  hold  of  a  mangy  dog  in  order  to  punish 
him  only  dirties  his  hand.  The  woman  who  betrayed  me  for 
your  sake,  and  you — ^you  dirty  beggar — are  worthy  of  each 
other.  I  could  crush  you  like  a  fly  that  can  be  destroyed 
by  a  blow  of  my  hand  if  I  chose,  but  my  sword  is  Caesar's,  and 
shall  never  be  soiled  by  such  foul  blood  as  yours;  however,  the 
beast  shall  not  have  cast  off  his  skin  for  nothing;  it  is  thick, 
and  so  you  have  only  spared  me  the  trouble  of  tearing  it  off  be- 
fore giving  you  your  due.  You  shall  find  no  lack  of  blows. 
Confess  where  your  sweetheart  has  fled  to  and  they  shall  be 
few,  but  if  you  are  slow  to  answer  they  will  be  many.  Lend 
me  that  thing  there,  fellow!" 

With  these  words  he  took  a  whip  of  hippopotamus  hide  out 
of  a  camel-driver's  hand,  went  close  up  to  the  Alexandrian, 
and  asked:  "  Where  is  Sirona?" 

"  Nay,  you  may  beat  me,"  said  Paulus.  "  However  hard 
your  whip  may  fall  on  me,  it  can  not  be  heavy  enough  for  my 
sins;  but  as  to  where  your  wife  is  hiding,  that  I  really  can  not 
tell  you — not  even  if  you  were  to  tear  my  limbs  with  pincers 
instead  of  stroking  me  with  that  wretched  thing. " 

There  was  something  so  genuinely  honest  in  Paulus's  voice 
and  tone,  that  the  centurion  was  inclined  to  believe  him;  but 
it  was  not  his  way  to  let  a  threatened  punishment  fail  of  execu- 
tion, and  this  strange  beggar  should  learn  by  experience  that 
when  his  hand  intended  to  hit  hard,  it  was  far  from  "  strok- 
ing. "  And  Paulus  did  experience  it,  without  uttering  a  cry, 
and  without  stirring  from  the  spot  where  he  stood. 

When  at  last  Phoebicius  dropped  his  weary  arm  and  breath- 
lessly repeated  his  question,  the  ill-used  man  replied : 

"  I  told  you  before  I  do  not  know,  and  therefore  I  can  not 
reveal  it. " 

Up  to  this  moment  Petrus,  though  he  had  felt  strongly  im- 
pellai  to  rush  to  the  rescue  of  his  severely  handled  fellow-be- 


HOMO    SUM.  105 

liever,  had  nevertheless  allowed  the  injured  husband  to  have 
his  way,  for  he  seemed  disposed  to  act  with  unusual  mildness, 
and  the  Alexandrian  to  be  worthy  of  all  punishment;  but  at 
this  point  Dorothea's  request  would  not  have  been  needed  to 
prompt  him  to  interfere. 

He  went  up  to  the  centurion,  and  said  to  him  in  an  under- 
tone : 

"  You  have  given  the  evil-doer  his  due,  and  if  you  desire 
that  lie  should  undergo  a  severer  punishment  than  you  can  in- 
flict, carry  the  matter — I  say  once  more — before  the  bishop. 
You  will  gain  nothing  more  here.  Take  my  word  for  it.  I 
know  the  man  and  his  fellow-men;  he  actually  knows  nothing 
of  where  your  wife  is  hiding,  and  you  are  only  wasting  the  time 
and  strength  which  you  would  do  better  to  save  in  order  to 
search  for  Sirona.  I  fancy  she  will  have  tried  to  reach  the  sea, 
and  to  get  to  Egypt  or  possibly  to  Alexandria;  and  there — ^you 
know  what  the  Greek  city  is — she  will  fall  into  utter  ruin." 

"  And  so,"  laughed  the  Gaul,  "  find  what  she  seeks — variety 
and  every  kind  of  pleasure.  For  a  young  thing  like  that,  who 
loves  amusement,  there  is  no  pleasant  occupation  but  vice. 
But  I  will  spoil  her  game;  you  are  right,  it  is  not  well  to  give 
her  too  long  a  start.  If  she  has  found  the  road  to  the  sea,  she 
may  already —  Hey,  here  Talib!"  He  beckoned  to  Polykarp's 
Amalekite  messenger.  "  You  have  just  come  from  Raithu; 
did  you  meet  a  flying  woman  on  the  way,  with  yellow  hair  and 
a  white  face?" 

The  Amalekite,  a  free  man  with  sharp  eyes,  who  was  highly 
esteemed  in  the  senator's  house,  and  even  by  Phoebicius  him? 
self,  as  a  trustworthy  and  steady  man,  had  expected  this  ques- 
tion, and  eagerly  replied : 

"  At  two  stadia  beyond  ElHeswe  Imet  a  large  caravan  from 
Petria,  which  rested  yesterday  in  the  oasis  here;  a  woman,  such 
as  you  describe,  was  running  with  it.  When  I  heard  what  had 
happened  here  I  wanted  to  speak,  but  who  listens  to  a  cricket 
while  it  thunders?" 

"  Had  she  a  lame  greyhound  with  her?"  asked  Phoebicius, 
full  of  expectation. 

"  She  carried  sometliing  in  her  arms,"  answered  the  Amale- 
kite. "  In  the  moonlight  I  took  it  for  a  baby.  My  brother, 
who  was  escorting  the  caravan,  told  me  the  lady  was  no  doubt 
running  away,  for  she  had  paid  the  charge  for  the  escort  not 
in  ready  money,  but  with  a  gold  signet-ring." 

The  Gaul  remembered  a  certain  gold  ring  with  a  finely  carved 
onyx,  which  long  years  ago  he  had  taken  from  Glycera's  finger. 


JlO  HOMO    STTM. 

for  she  had  another  one  like  it,  and  which  he  had  given  to 
Sirona  on  the  day  of  their  marriage. 

"  It  is  strange!"  thought  he;  "  what  we  give  to  women  to 
bind  them  to  us  they  use  as  weapons  to  turn  against  us,  lie  it 
to  please  some  other  man,  or  to  smooth  the  path  by  which  they 
escape  from  us.  It  was  with  a  bracelet  of  Glycera's  that  I  paid 
the  captain  of  the  ship  that  brought  us  to  Alexandria;  but  the 
soft-hearted  fool,  whose  dove  flew  after  me,  and  I  are  men  of  a 
different  stamp;  I  will  follow  my  flown  bird,  and  catch  it 
again.** 

He  spoke  the  last  words  aloud,  and  then  desired  one  of  the 
senator  s  slaves  to  give  his  mule  a  good  feed  and  drink,  for  his 
own  groom  and  the  superior  decurion  who  during  his  absence 
must  take  his  place,  were  also  worshipers  of  Mithras,  and  had 
not  yet  returned  from  the  mountain. 

Phcebicius  did  not  doubt  that  the  woman  who  had  joined  the 
caravan — which  he  himself  had  seen  yesterday — was  has  fugitive 
wife,  and  he  knew  that  his  delay  might  have  reduced  his  earnest 
wish  to  overtake  her  and  punish  her  to  the  remotest  proba- 
bility; but  he  was  a  Koman  soldier,  and  would  rather  have  laid 
violent  hands  on  himself  than  have  left  his  post  without  a 
deputy.  When  at  last  his  fellow-worshipers  came  from  their 
sacrifice  and  worship  of  the  rising  sun,  his  preparations  for  his 
long  jo:irney  were  completed.  * 

Phcebicius  carefully  impressed  on  the  decurion  all  he  had  to 
do  during  his  absence,  and  how  he  was  to  conduct  himself; 
then  he  delivered  the  key  of  his  house  into  Petrus's  keeping  as 
well  as  the  black  slave-woman,  who  wept  loudly  and  passion- 
ately over  the  flight  of  her  mistress;  he  requested  the  senator 
to  bring  the  anchorite's  misdeed  to  the  Knowledge  of  the 
bishop,  and  then,  guided  by  the  Amalekite  Talib,  who  rode 
before  him  on  his  dromedary,  he  trotted  hastily  away  in  pur- 
suit of  the  caravan,  so  as  to  reach  the  sea,  if  possible,  before 
its  embarkation. 

As  the  hoofs  of  the  mule  sounded  fainter  and  fainter  in  the 
distance,  Paulus  also  quitted  the  senator's  court-yard ;  Dorothea 
pginted  after  him  as  he  walked  toward  the  mountain.  "  In 
truth,  husband,"  said  she,  "  this  has  been  a  strange  morning; 
everything  that  has  occurred  looks  as  clear  as  day,  and  yet  I 
can  not  understand  it  all.  My  heart  aches  when  I  think  what 
may  happen  to  the  wretched  Sirona  if  her  enraged  husband 
overtakes  her.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  are  two  sorts  of  mar- 
riage; one  was  instituted  by  the  most  loving  of  the  angels,  nay, 
by  the  All-Merciful  himself,  but  the  other — it  is  not  to  be 
thought  of!    How  can  those  two  live  together  for  the  future? 


HOMO    StTM.  Ill 

And  that  under  our  roof!  Their  closed  house  looks  to  me  as 
though  ruined  and  burned  out,  and  we  have  already  seen  the 
nettles  spring  up  which  grow  everywhere  among  the  ruins  of 
human  dwelUngs." 


PART  11. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  path  of  every  star  is  fixed  and  limited,  every  plant 
bears  flowers  and  fruit  which  in  form  and  color  exactly  resem- 
ble their  kind,  and  in  all  the  fundamental  characteristics  of 
their  qualities  and  dispositions,  of  their  instinctive  bent  and 
external  impulse,  all  animals  of  the  same  species  resemble  each 
other;  thus,  the  hunter  who  knows  the  red  deer  in  his  fathers' 
forest,  may  know  in  every  forest  on  earth  how  the  stag  will 
behave  in  any  given  case.  The  better  a  genus  is  fitted  for 
variability  in  the  comformation  of  its  individuals,  the  higher  is 
the  rank  it  is  entitled  to  hold  in  the  graduated  series  of  creat- 
ures capable  of  development;  and  it  is  precisely  that  wonderful 
many-sidedness  of  his  inner  life,  and  of  its  outward  manifesta- 
tion, which  assigns  to  man  his  superiority  over  all  other  ani- 
mated beings. 

Some  few  of  our  qualities  and  activities  can  be  fitly  sym- 
bolized in  allegorical  fashion  by  animals;  thus,  courage  finds 
an  emblem  in  the  Hon,  gentleness  in  the  dove,  but  the  perfect 
human  form  has  satisfied  a  thousand  generations,  and  will 
satisfy  a  thousand  more,  when  we  desire  to  reduce  the  divinity 
to  a  sensible  image,  for,  in  truth,  our  heart  is  as  surely  capa- 
ble of  comprehending  "  God  in  us  " — that  is  in  our  feelings — 
as  our  intellect  is  capable  of  comprehending  His  outward  mani- 
festation in  the  universe. 

Every  characteristic  of  every  finite  being  is  to  be  found  again 
in  man,  and  no  characteristic  that  we  can  attribute  to  the  Most 
High  is  foreign  to  our  own  soul,  which,  in  like  manner,  is  in- 
finite and  immeasurable,  for  it  can  extend  its  investigating 
feelers  to  the  very  utmost  boundary  of  space  and  time.  Hence, 
the  roads  which  are  open  to  the  soul  are  numberless  as  those 
of  the  divinity.  Often  they  seem  strange,  but  the  initiated 
very  well  know  that  these  roads  are  in  accordance  to  fixed  laws, 
and  that  even  the  most  exceptional  emotions  of  the  soul  may 


112  HOMO    SUM. 

be  traced  back  to  causes  which  were  capable  of  giving  riso  to 
them  and  to  no  others. 

Blows  hurt,  disgrace  is  a  burden,  and  unjust  punishment 
embitters  the  heart;  but  Pauhis's  soul  had  sought  and  found  a 
way  to  which  these  simple  propositions  did  not  apply. 

He  had  been  ill-used  and  contemned,  and,  though  perfectly 
innocent,  ere  he  left  the  oasis  he  was  condemned  to  the  severest 
penance.  As  soon  as  the  bishop  had  heard  from  Petrus  of 
all  that  had  happened  in  his  house,  he  had  sent  for  Paulus, 
and  as  he  could  answer  nothing  to  the  accusation,  he  had  ex- 
pelled liim  from  his  flock — to  which  the  anchorites  belonged — 
forbidden  him  to  visit  the  church  on  week  days,  and  declared 
that  this  his  sentence  should  be  publicly  proclaimed  before  the 
assembled  congregation  of  the  believers. 

And  how  did  this  affect  Paulus  as  lie  climbed  the  mountain, 
lonely  and  proscribed? 

A  fisherman  from  the  little  sea-port  of  Pharan,  who  met  him 
half  way  and  exchanged  a  greeting  with  him,  thought  to  him- 
self as  he  looked  after  him,  "  The  great  gray-beard  looks  as 
happy  as  if  he  had  found  a  treasure. ''  Then  he  walked  on 
into  the  valley  with  his  scaly  wares,  reminded,  as  he  went,  of 
his  son's  expression  of  face  when  his  wife  borePhim  his  first  lit- 
tle one. 

Near  the  watch-tower  at  the  edge  of  the  defile,  a  party  of 
anchorites  were  piling  some  stones  together.  They  had  already 
heard  of  the  bishop's  sentence  on  Paulus,  the  sinner,  and  they 
gave  him  no  greeting.  He  observed  it  and  was  silent,  but 
when  they  could  no  longer  see  him  he  laughed  to  himself  and 
muttered,  while  he  rubbed  a  weal  that  the  centurion's  whip 
had  left  upon  his  back,  "  If  they  think  that  a  Gaul's  cudgel 
has  a  pleasant  flavor  they  are  mistaken;  however  I  would  not 
exchange  it  for  a  skin  of  Anthylian  wine;  and  if  they  could 
oidy  know  that  at  least  one  of  the  stripes  which  torments  me 
is  due  to  each  one  of  themselves,  they  would  be  surprised! 
iiut  away  with  pride!  How  they  spat  on  Thee,  Jesus  my 
Lord,  and  who  am  I,  and  how  mildly  have  they  dealt  with  me, 
when  I  for  once  have  taken  on  my  back  another's  stripes, 
l^ot  a  drop  of  blood  was  drawn!  I  wish  the  old  man  had  hit 
harder!" 

He  walked  cheerfully  forward,  and  his  mind  recurred  to  the 
centurion's  speech  that  "  he  could,  if  he  list,  tread  him  down 
like  a  worm,"  and  he  laughed  again  softly,  for  he  was  quite 
aware  that  he  was  ten  times  as  strong  as  Phcebicius,  and  for- 
merly he  had  overthrown  the  braggart  Arkesilaos  of  Kyrene 
and  his  cousin,  the  tall  Xenophanes,  both  at  once  in  the  sand 


HOMO    StJM.  113 

of  the  Palaestra.  Then  he  thought  of  Hermas,  of  his  sweet 
dead  mother,  and  of  his  father,  and — which  was  the  most  com- 
forting thought  of  all — of  how  he  had  spared  the  old  man  this 
bitter  sorrow. 

On  his  path  there  grew  a  little  plant  with  a  reddish  blossom. 
In  years  he  had  never  looked  at  a  flower,  or,  at  any  rate,  had 
leve"  wished  to  possess  one;  to-day  he  stooped  down  over  the 
olossom  that  graced  the  rock,  meaning  to  pluck  it.  But  he 
did  not  carry  out  his  intention,  for  before  be  had  laid  his  hand 
upon  it  he  reflected : 

"  To  whom  could  I  offer  it?  And  perhaps  the  flowers  them- 
selves rejoice  in  the  light,  aiid  in  the  silent  life  that  is  in  their 
roots.  How  tightly  it  clings  to  the  rock.  Further  away  from 
the  road  flowers  of  even  greater  beauty  blow,  seen  by  no  mor- 
tal eye;  they  deck  themselves  in  beauty  for  no  one  but  for  their 
Creator,  and  because  they  rejoice  in  themselves.  I,  too,  will 
withdraw  from  the  highways  of  mankind;  let  them  accuse  me! 
so  long  as  I  live  at  peace  with  myself  and  my  God  I  ask  noth- 
ing of  any  one.  He  that  abases  himself — ay,  he  that  abases 
himself!  My  hour,  too,  shall  come,  and  above  and  beyond  this 
life  I  shall  see  them  all  once  more:  Petrus  and  Borothea, 
Agapitus  and  the  brethren  who  now  refuse  to  receive  me,  and 
then,  when  my  Saviour  himself  beckons  me  to  Him,  they  will 
see  me  as  I  am,  and  hasten  to  me  and  greet  me  with  double 
kindness. " 

He  looked  up,  proud  and  rejoicing  as  he  thought  thus,  and 
painted  to  himself  the  joys  of  Paradise,  to  which  this  day  he 
had  earned  an  assured  claim.  He  never  took  longer  and  swifter 
steps  than  when  his  mind  was  occupied  with  such  meditations, 
and  when  he  reached  Stephanus's  cave  he  thought  the  way 
from  the  oasis  to  the  heights  had  been  shorter  than  usual. 

He  found  the  sick  man  in  great  anxiety,  for  he  had  waited 
until  now  for  his  son  in  vain,  and  feared  that  Hermas  had 
met  with  some  accident — or  had  abandoned  him,  and  fled  out 
into  the  world.  Paulus  soothed  him  with  gentle  words,  and 
told  him  of  the  errand  on  which  he  had  sent  the  lad  to  the 
further  coast  of  the  sea. 

We  are  never  better  disposed  to  be  satisfied  with  even  bad 
news  than  when  we  have  expected  it  to  be  much  worse;  so 
Stephanus  listened  to  his  friend's  explanation  quite  calmly, 
and  with  signs  of  approval.  He  could  no  longer  conceal  from 
himself  that  Hermas  was  not  ripe  for  the  life  of  an  anchorite, 
and  since  he  had  learned  that  his  unhappy  wife — whom  he  had 
so  long  given  up  for  lost — had  died  a  Christian,  he  found  that 
Jie  could  reconcile  his  thoughts  to  relinquishing  the  boy  to  th^J 


114  HOMO    SUM. 

world.  He  had  devoted  himself  and  his  son  to  a  life  of  pen- 
ance, hoping  and  striving  that  so  Glycera's  soul  might  be 
snatched  from  damnation,  and  now  he  knew  that  she  herself 
had  earned  her  title  to  heaven. 

"  When  will  he  come  home  again?"  he  asked  Paulus. 

"  In  five  or  six  days,"  was  the  answer.  "  Ali,  the  fisher- 
man— out  of  whose  foot  I  took  a  thorn  some  time  since — in- 
formed me  secretly,  as  I  was  going  to  church  yesterday,  that 
the  Blemmyes  are  gathering  behind  the  sulphur  mountains; 
when  they  have  withdrawn  it  will  be  high  time  to  send  Hermas 
to  Alexandria.  My  brother  is  still  alive,  and  for  my  sake  he 
will  receive  him  as  a  blood  relation,  for  he,  too,  has  been  bap- 
tized. 

"  He  may  attend'  the  school  of  catechumens  in  the  metro|^ 
olis,  and  if  he — if  he — " 

"  That  we  shaU  see,"  interrupted  Paulus.  "  For  the  pres- 
ent it  comes  to  this,  we  must  let  nim  go  from  hence,  and  leave 
him  to  seek  out  his  own  way.  You  fancy  that  there  may  bf^ 
in  heaven  a  place  of  glory  for  such  as  have  never  been  over 
come,  and  you  would  fain  have  seen  Hermas  among  them.  It 
reminds  me  of  the  physician  of  Corinth,  who  boasted  that  he 
was  cleverer  than  any  of  his  colleagues,  for  that  not  one  of  his 
patients  had  ever  died.  And  the  man  was  right,  for  neither 
man  nor  beast  had  ever  trusted  to  his  healing  arts.  Let 
Hermas  try  his  young  strength,  and  even  if  he  be  no  priest,, 
but  a  valiant  warrior  like  his  forefathers,  even  so  he  may 
honestly  serve  God.  But  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  all  this 
comes  to  pass.  So  long  as  he  is  away  I  will  attend  on  you — 
you  still  have  some  water  in  your  jar?" 

"  It  has  twice  been  filled  for  me,"  said  the  old  man.  "  The 
brown  shepherdess,  who  so  often  waters  her  goats  at  our 
spring,  came  to  me  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  again 
about  two  hours  ago;  she  asked  after  Hermas,  and  then  offered 
of  her  own  accord  to  fetch  water  for  me  so  long  as  he  was 
away.  She  is  as  timid  as  a  bird,  and  flew  off  as  soon  as  she 
had  set  down  the  jug." 

/'  She  belongs  to  Petrus,  and  can  not  leave  her  goats  for 
long,"  said  Paulus.  "  Now,  I  will  go  and  find  you  some  herbs 
for  a  relish;  there  will  be  no  more  wine  in  the  first  place. 
Look  me  in  the  fa(;e — for  how  great  a  sinner  now  do  you  take 
me?  Think  the  very  worst  of  me,  and  yet  perhaps  you  will 
hear  worse  said  of  me.  But  here  come  two  men.  Stay!  one 
is  Hilarion,  one  of  the  bishop's  acolytes,  and  the  other  is 
Pachomius  the  Memphite,  who  lately  came  to  the  mountain. 
They  are  coming  up  here,  and  the  Egyptian  is  carrying  a 


HOMO    SUM.  115 

small  jar.  I  would  it  might  hold  some  more  wine  to  keep  up 
your  strength." 

The  two  friends  had  not  long  to  remain  in  ignorance  of 
their  visitors'  purpose.  So  soon  as  they  reached  Stephanus's 
cave  both  turned  their  backs  on  Paulus  with  conspicuously 
marked  intention;  nay,  the  acolyte  signed  his  brow  with  the 
cross,  as  if  he  thought  it  necessary  to  protect  himself  against 
evil  influences. 

The  Alexandrian  understood;  he  drew  back  and  was  silent, 
while  Hilarion  explained  to  he  sick  man  that  Paulus  was  guilty 
of  grave  sins,  and  that,  until  he  had  done  full  penance,  he 
must  remain  excluded  as  a  rotten  sheep  from  the  bishop's 
flock,  as  well  as  interdicted  from  waiting  on  a  pious  Christian. 

"  We  know  from  Petrus,"  the  speaker  went  on,  "  that  your 
son,  father,  has  been  sent  across  the  sea,  and  as  you  still  need 
waiting  on,  Agapitus  sends  you  by  me  his  blessing  and  this 
strengthening  wine;  this  youth,  too,  will  stay  by  you,  and  pro- 
vide you  with  all  necessaries  until  Hermas  comes  home. " 

With  these  words  he  gave  the  wine- jar  to  the  old  man,  who 
looked  in  astonishment  from  him  to  Paulus,  who  felt  indeed 
cut  to  the  heart  when  the  bishop's  messenger  turned  to  him 
for  an  instant,  and  with  the  cry,  "  Get  thee  out  from  among 
us!"  disappeared. 

How  many  kindly  ties,  how  many  services  willingly  rendered 
and  affectionately  accepted  were  swept  away  by  these  words — 
but  Paulus  obeyed  at  once.  He  went  up  to  his  sick  friend, 
their  eyes  met  and  each  could  see  that  the  eyes  of  the  other 
were  dimmed  with  tears. 

"  Paulus,"  cried  the  old  man,  stretching  out  both  his  hando 
to  his  departing  friend,  whom  he  felt  he  could  forgive  what- 
ever his  guilt;  but  the  Alexandrian  did  not  take  them,  but 
turned  away,  and,  without  looking  back,  hastily  went  up  the 
mountain  to  a  pathless  spot,  and  then  on  toward  the  valley — 
onward  and  still  onward,  till  he  was  brought  to  a  pause  by  tho 
steep  declivity  of  the  hollow  way  which  led  southward  from 
the  mountains  into  the  oasis. 

The  sun  stood  high,  and  it  was  burning  hot.  Streaming 
with  sweat  and  panting  for  breath  he  leaned  against  the  glow- 
ing porphyry  wall  behind  him,  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  and 
strove  to  collect  himself,  to  think,  to  pray — for  a  long  time  in 
vain;  for  instead  of  joy  in  the  suffering  which  he  had  taken 
upon  himself,  the  grief  of  isolation  weighed  upon  his  heart, 
and  the  lamentable  cry  of  the  old  man  had  left  a  warning  echo 
in.  his  soul,  and  roused  doubts  of  the  righteousness  of  a  deed, 
by  which  even  the  best  and  purest  had  been  deceived,  and  led 


116  HOMO   SUM. 

into  injustice  toward  him.  His  lieart  was  breaking  with 
anguish  and  grief,  but  when  at  last  he  returned  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  sufferings,  pliysical  and  mental,  he  began  to 
recover  his  courage,  and  even  smiled  as  he  murmured  to  him- 
self: 

"  It  is  well,  it  is  well — the  more  I  suffer  the  more  surely 
shall  I  find  grace.  And  besides,  if  the  old  man  had  seen  Her- 
mas  go  through  what  I  have  experienced  it  would  undoubtedly 
have  killed  him.  Certainly  1  wish  it  could  have  been  done 
without — without — ay,  it  is  even  so — without  deceit;  even 
when  I  was  a  heathen  I  was  truthful  and  held  a  lie,  whether 
in  myself  or  in  another,  in  as  deep  horror  as  Father  Abraham 
held  murder,  and  yet  when  tlie  Lord  required  him,  he  led  his 
son  Isaac  to  the  slaughter.  And  Moses,  when  he  beat  the  over- 
seer— and  Eli^,  and  Deborah,  and  Judith — I  have  taken  upon 
myself  no  less  than  they,  but  my  lie  will  surely  be  forgiven 
me,  if  it  is  not  reckoned  against  them  that  they  shed  blood." 

These  and  such  reflections  restored  Paulus  to  equanimity 
and  to  satisfaction  with  his  conduct,  and  he  began  to  consider, 
whether  he  should  return  to  his  old  cave  and  the  neighborhood 
of  Stephanus,  or  seek  for  a  new  abode.  He  decided  on  the 
latter  course;  but  first  he  must  find  fresh  water  and  some  sort 
of  nourishment,  for  his  mouth  and  tongue  were  quite  parched. 

Lower  down  in  the  valley  sprung  a  brooklet  of  which  he 
knew,  and  hard  by  it  grew  various  herbs  and  roots,  with 
which  he  had  often  allayed  his  hunger.  He  followed  the  de- 
chvity  to  its  base,  then  turning  to  the  left,  he  crossed  a  small 
table-land,  whicli  was  easily  accessible  from  the  gorge,  but 
which  on  the  side  of  the  oasis  formed  a  perpendicular  cliff 
many  fathoms  deep.  Between  it  and  the  main  mass  of  the 
mountain  rose  numerous  single  peaks,  like  a  camp  of  granite 
tents,  or  a  wildly  tossing  sea  suddenly  turned  to  stone;  behind 
these  blocks  ran  the  streamlet,  which  he  found  after  a  short 
seai'ch. 

Perfectly  refreshed,  and  with  renewed  resolve  to  bear  the 
worst  with  patiencCj  he  returned  to  the  plateau,  and  from  the 
edge  of  the  precipice  he  gazed  down  into  the  desei  t  gorge  that 
stretched  away  far  below  his  feet,  and  in  whose  deepest  and 
remotest  hollow  the  palm  groves  and  tamarisk  thickets  of  the 
oasis  showed  as  a  sharply  defined  mass  of  green,  like  a  luxu- 
riant wreath  flung  upon  a  bier.  The  whitewashed  roofs  of  the 
little  town  of  Pharan  shone  brightly  among  the  branches  and 
clumps  of  verdure,  and  above  them  all  rose  the  new  church, 
which  he  was  now  forbidden  to  enter.  For  a  moment  the 
thought  w»s  keenly  painful  that  be  was  excluded  from  tho 


HOMO    SUM.  117 

devotions  of  the  community,  from  the  Lord's  supper,  and 
from  congregational  prayer,  but  then  lie  asked,  was  not  every 
block  of  stone  on  the  mountain  an  altar? — was  not  the  blue 
sky  above  a  thousand  times  wider  and  more  splendid  than  the 
mightiest  dome  raised  by  the  hand  of  man,  not  even  excepting 
the  vaulted  roof  of  the  Serapeum  at  Alexandria?  and  he  re- 
membered the  "  Amen "  of  the  stones  that  had  rung  out 
after  the  preaching  of  the  blind  man.  By  this  time  he  had 
quite  recovered  himself,  and  he  went  toward  the  cliff  in  order 
to  find  a  cavern  that  he  knew  of,  and  that  was  empty — for  its 
gray-headed  inhabitant  had  died  some  weeks  since.  "  Verily," 
thought  he,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  I  am  by  no  means  weighed 
down  by  the  burden  of  my  disgrace,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
lifted  up.  Here  at  least  I  need  not  cast  down  my  eyes,  for  I 
am  alone  with  my  God,  and  in  His  presence  1  feel  I  need  not 
be  ashamed." 

Thus  meditating,  he  pressed  on  through  a  narrow  space, 
which  divided  two  huge  masses  of  porphyry,  but  suddenly  he 
stood  still,  for  he  heard  the  barking  of  a  dog  hi  his  immediate 
neighborhood,  and  a  few  minutes  after  a  greyhound  rushed 
toward  him — now  indignantly  flying  at  him,  and  now  timidly 
retreating — while  it  carefully  held  up  one  leg,  which  was 
wrapped  in  a  many-colored  bandage. 

Paul  us  recollected  the  inquiry  which  Phoebicius  had  ad- 
dressed to  the  Amalekite  as  to  a  greyhound,  and  he  immediate- 
ly guessed  that  the  Gaul's  runaway  wife  must  be  not  far  off. 
His  heart  beat  more  quickly,  and  although  he  did  not  imme- 
diately know  how  he  should  meet  the  disloyal  wife,  he  felt 
himself  impelled  to  go  and  seek  her.  Without  delay  he  fol- 
lowed the  way  by  which  the  dog  had  come,  and  soon  caught 
sight  of  a  light  garment,  which  vanished  behind  the  nearest 
rock,  and  then  behind  a  further,  and  yet  a  further  one. 

At  last  he  came  up  with  the  fleeing  woman.  She  was  stand- 
ing at  the  very  edge  of  a  precipice,  that  rose  high  and  sheer 
above  the  abyss — a  strange  and  fearful  sight;  her  long  golden 
hair  had  got  tangled,  and  waved  over  her  bosom  and  shoulders, 
half  plaited,  half  undone.  Only  one  foot  was  firm  on  the 
ground;  the  other — ^with  its  thin  sandal  all  torn  by  the  sharp 
stones — was  stretched  out  over  the  abyss,  ready  for  the  next 
fatal  step.  At  the  next  instant  she  might  disappear  over  the 
cliff,  for  though  with  her  right  hand  she  held  on  to  a  point  of 
rock,  Paulus  could  see  that  the  bowlder  had  no  connection 
with  the  rock  on  which  she  stood,  and  rocked  to  aud  fro. 

She  hung  over  the  edge  of  the  chasm  like  a  sleep-walker,  or 
9k  possessed  creature  pursued  by  demons,  and  at  the  same  time 


118  HOMO    SUM. 

her  eyes  glistened  with  such  wild  madness,  and  she  drew  her 
breath  with  such  feverish  rapidity  that  Paulus,  who  had  come 
close  up  to  her,  involuntarily  drew  back.  He  saw  that  her 
lips  moved,  and  though  he  (jould  not  understand  what  she  said, 
he  felt  that  her  voiceless  utterance  was  to  warn  him  back. 

What  should  he  do?  If  he  hurried  forward  to  save  her  by  a 
hasty  grip,  and  if  this  maneuver  failed,  she  would  fling  herself 
irredeemably  into  the  abyss;  if  he  left  her  to  herself  the  stone 
M  wliich  she  clung  would  get  looser  and  looser,  and  as  soon  iu 
it  fell  she  would  certainly  fall  too.  He  had  once  heard  it 
said  that  sleep-walkers  always  threw  themselves  down  when 
they  heard  their  names  spoken;  this  statement  now  recurred 
to  his  mind,  and  he  forbore  from  calling  out  to  her. 

Once  more  the  unhappy  woman  waved  him  off;  his  very 
heart  stopped  beating,  for  her  movements  were  wild  and 
vehement,  and  he  could  see  that  the  stone  which  she  was 
holding  on  by  shifted  its  place.  He  understood  nothing  of  all 
the  words  which  she  tried  to  say — for  her  voice,  which  only 
yesterday  had  been  so  sweet,  to-day  was  inaudibly  hoarse — ex- 
cept the  one  name  "  Phoebicius,"  and  he  felt  no  doubt  that  she 
clung  to  the  stone  over  the  abyss,  so  that,  like  the  mountain- 
goat  when  it  sees  itself  surprised  by  the  hunter,  she  might  fling 
herself  into  the  depths  below  rather  than  be  taken  by  her  pur- 
suer. Paulus  saw  in  her  neither  her  guilt  nor  her  beauty,  but 
only  a  child  of  man  trembling  on  the  brink  of  a  fearful  danger 
whom  he  must  save  from  death  at  any  cost;  and  the  thought 
that  he  was  at  any  rate  not  a  spy  sent  in  pursuit  of  her  by  her 
husband,  suggested  to  him  the  flrst  words  which  he  found 
courage  to  address  to  the  desperate  woman.  They  were  simple 
words  enough,  but  they  were  spoken  in  a  tone  which  fully  ex- 
pressed the  child-like  amiability  of  his  warm  heart,  and  the 
Alexandrian,  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  most  approved 
school  of  the  city  of  orators,  involuntarily  uttered  his  words  in 
the  admirably  rich  and  soft-chest  voice  which  he  so  well  knew 
how  to  use. 

"  Be  thankful,"  said  he,  "  poor  dear  woman — I  have  found 
you  in  a  fortunate  hour.  I  am  Paulus,  Hermas's  best  friend, 
a'nd  I  would  willingly  serve  you  in  your  sore  need.  No  danger 
is  now  threatening  you,  for  Phcebicius  is  seeking  you  on  a 
wrong  road;  you  may  trust  me.  Look  at  me!  I  do  not  look 
as  if  I  could  betray  a  poor  erring  woman.  But  you  are  stand- 
ing on  a  spot  where  I  would  rather  see  my  enemy  than  you; 
lay  your  hand  confidingly  in  mine — it  is  no  longer  white  and 
slender,  but  it  is  strong  and  honest — grant  me  this  request  and 
you  will  never  rue  it!    See,  place  your  foot  here,  and  take  care 


HOMO   SUM.  119 

how  you  leave  go  of  the  rock  there.  You  know  not  how  sus- 
piciously it  shook  its  head,  over  your  strange  confidence  in  it. 
Take  care!  there — your  support  has  rolled  it  over  into  the  abyss; 
how  it  crashes  and  splits.  It  has  reached  the  bottom,  smashed 
into  a  thousand  pieces,  and  I  am  thankful  that  you  preferred 
to  follow  me  rather  than  that  false  support."  While  Paul  up 
was  speaking  he  had  gone  up  to  Sirona,  as  a  girl  whose  biro 
has  escaped  from  its  cage,  and  who  creeps  up  to  it  with  timiu 
care  in  the  hope  of  recapturing  it,  he  offered  her  his  hand, 
and  as  soon  as  he  felt  hers  in  his  grasp;  he  had  carefully  res- 
cued her  from  her  fearful  position,  and  had  led  her  down  to  a 
secure  footing  on  the  plateau.  So  long  as  she  followed  him 
unresistingly  he  led  her  on  toward  the  mountain — without  aim 
or  fixed  destination — but  away,  away  from  the  abyss. 

She  paused  by  a  square  block  of  diorite,  and  Paulus,  who 
had  not  failed  to  observe  how  heavy  her  steps  were,  desired  her 
to  sit  down;  he  pushed  up  a  flag  of  stone,  which  he  propped 
with  smaller  ones,  so  that  Sirona  might  not  lack  a  support  for 
her  weary  back.  When  he  had  accomplished  this  Sirona  leaned 
back  against  the  stone,  and  something  of  dawning  satisfaction 
was  audible  in  the  soft  sigh,  which  was  the  first  sound  that 
had  escaped  her  tightly  closed  lips  since  her  rescue.  Paulus 
smiled  at  her  encouragingly,  and  said,  "  Now  rest  a  little,  I 
see  what  you  want;  one  can  not  defy  the  heat  of  the  sun  for  a 
whole  day  with  impunity." 

Sirona  nodded,  pointed  to  her  mouth,  and  implored  wearily 
and  very  softly  for  "  Water,  a  little  water." 

Paulus  struck  his  hand  against  his  forehead,  and  cried 
eagerly,  "  Directly — I  will  bring  you  a  fresh  draught.  In  a 
few  minutes  I  will  be  back  again." 

Sirona  looked  after  him  as  he  hastened  away.  Her  gaze  be- 
came more  and  more  staring  and  glazed,  and  she  felt  as  if  the 
rock  on  which  she  was  sitting  were  changing  into  the  ship 
which  had  brought  her  from  Massilia  to  Ostia.  Every  heaving 
motion  of  the  vessel,  which  had  made  her  so  giddy  as  it  danced 
over  the  shifting  waves,  she  now  distinctly  felt  again,  and  at 
last  it  seemed  as  if  a  whirlpool  had  seized  the  ship,  and  was 
whirhng  it  round  faster  and  faster  in  a  circle.  She  closed  her 
eyes,  felt  vaguely  and  in  vain  in  the  air  for  some  hold-fast,  her 
head  fell  powerless  on  one  side,  and  before  her  cheek  sunk 
upon  her  shoulder  she  uttered  one  feeble  cry  of  distress,  for 
she  felt  as  if  all  her  limbs  were  dropping  from  her  body,  as 
leaves  in  autumn  fall  from  the  boughs,  and  she  fell  back  un- 
conscious on  the  stony  couch  which  Paulus  had  constructed 
lor  her. 


180  HOMO    SUM. 

It  was  the  first  swoon  that  Sirona,  with  her  sound  physical 
and  mental  powers,  had  ever  experience,!;  but  the  strongest 
of  her  sex  would  have  been  overcome  by  the  excitement,  the 
efforts,  the  privations,  and  the  sufferings  which  had  that  day 
befallen  the  unfortunate  fair  one. 

At  first  she  had  fled  without  any  plan  out  into  the  night  and 
up  the  mountain;  the  moon  lighted  her  on  her  way,  and  for 
fully  an  hour  she  continued  her  upward  road  without  anj  rest. 
Then  she  heard  the  voices  of  travelers  who  were  coming  toward 
her,  and  she  left  the  beaten  road  and  tried  to  get  away  from 
them,  for  she  feared  that  her  greyhound,  which  she  still  car- 
ried on  her  arm,  would  betray  her  by  barking,  or  if  they  heard 
it  whining,  and  saw  it  limp.  At  last  she  had  sunk  down  on  a 
stone,  and  had  reflected  on  all  the  events  of  the  last  few  hours, 
and  on  what  she  had  to  do  next.  She  could  look  back  dreamily 
on  the  past,  and  build  castles  in  the  air  in  a  blue-skied  future 
— this  was  easy  enough;  but  she  did  not  find  it  easy  to  refiect 
with  due  deliberation,  and  to  think  in  earnest.  Only  one 
thing  was  perfectly  clear  to  her;  she  would  rather  starve  and 
die  of  thirst,  and  shame,  and  misery — nay,  she  would  rather 
be  the  instrument  of  her  own  death,  than  return  to  her  hus- 
band. She  knew  that  she  must  in  the  first  instance  expect  ill- 
nsage,  scorn,  and  imprisonment  in  a  dark  room  at  the  Gaul's 
hands;  but  all  that  seemed  to  her  far  more  endurable  than  the 
tenderness  with  which  he  from  time  to  time  approached  her. 
When  she  thought  of  that  she  shuddered  and  clinched  her 
white  teeth,  and  doubled  her  fists  so  tightly  that  her  nails  cut 
the  flesh. 

But  what  was  she  to  do?  If  Hermas  were  to  meet  her? 
And  yet  what  help  could  she  look  for  from  him,  for  what  was 
he  but  a  mere  lad?  and  the  thought  of  linking  her  hfe  to  his, 
if  only  for  a  day,  appeared  to  her  foolish  and  ridiculous. 

Certainly  she  felt  no  inclination  to  repent  or  to  blame  her- 
self; still  it  had  been  a  great  folly  on  her  part  to  call  hini  into 
the  house  for  the  sake  of  amusing  herself  with  him. 

Then  she  recollected  the  severe  punishment  she  had  once 
suffered,  because,  when  she  was  still  quite  little,  and  without 
meaning  any  harm,  she  had  taken  her  father's  water  clock  to 
pieces,  and  had  spoiled  it. 

She  felt  that  she  was  very  superior  to  Hermas,  and  her  posi- 
tion was  now  too  grave  a  one  for  her  to  feel  inclined  to  play 
any  more.  She  thought  indeed  of  Petrus  anc^  Dorothea,  but 
she  could  only  reach  them  by  going  back  to  the  oasis,  and 
then  she  feared  to  be  discovered  by  Phrebicius. 

If  Polykarp  now  could  only  meet  her  on  his  way  back  iron, 


HOMO    SUM.  121 

Raithu;  but  the  road  she  had  just  quitted  did  not  lead  from 
thence,  but  to  the  gate-way  that  lay  more  to  the  southward. 

The  senator's  son  loved  her — of  that  she  was  sure,  for  no 
one  else  had  ever  looked  into  her  eyes  with  such  deep  delight 
or  such  tender  affection;  and  he  was  no  inexperienced  boy,  but 
a  right  earnest  man,  whose  busy  and  useful  life  now  appeared 
to  her  in  a  quite  different  light  to  that  in  which  she  had  seen 
it  formerly.  How  willingly  now  would  she  have  allowed  her- 
self to  be  supported  and  guided  by  Polykarp!  But  how  could 
she  reach  him?  No — even  from  him  there  was  nothing  to  be 
expected;  she  must  rely  upon  her  own  strength,  and  she  de- 
cided that  so  soon  as  the  morning  should  blush,  and  the  sun 
begin  to  mount  in  the  cloudless  sky,  she  would  keep  herself 
concealed  during  the  day  among  the  mountains,  and  then  as 
evening  came  on,  she  would  go  down  to  the  sea,  and  endeavor 
to  get  on  board  a  vessel  to  Klysma  and  thence  reach  Alexan- 
dria. She  wore  a  ring  with  a  finely  cut  onyx  on  her  finger, 
elegant  ear-rings  in  her  ears,  and  on  her  left  arm  a  bracelet. 
These  jewels  were  of  virgin  gold,,  and  besides  these  she  had 
with  her  a  few  silver  coins  and  one  large  gold  piece,  that  her 
father  had  given  her  as  token  out  of  his  small  store,  when  she 
had  quitted  him  for  Eome,  and  that  she  had  hitherto  pre- 
served as  carefully  as  if  it  were  a  talisman. 

She  pressed  the  token,  which  was  sewed  into  a  little  bag,  to 
her  lips,  and  thought  of  her  paternal  home,  and  her  brothers 
and  sisters. 

Meanwhile  the  sun  mounted  higher  and  higher;  she  wan- 
dered from  rock  to  rock  in  search  of  a  shady  spot  and  a  spring 
of  water,  but  none  was  to  be  found,  and  she  was  tormented 
with  violent  thirst  and  aching  hunger.  By  midday  the  strips 
of  shade,  too,  had  vanished,  where  she  had  found  shelter  from 
the  rays  of  the  sun,  which  now  beat  down  unmercifully  on  her 
unprotected  head.  Her  forehead  and  neck  began  to  tingle 
violently,  and  she  fled  before  the  burning  beams  like  a  soldier 
before  the  shafts  of  his  pursuer.  Behind  the  rocks  which 
hemmed  in  the  plateau  on  which  Paulus  met  her,  at  last, 
when  she  was  quite  exhausted,  she  found  a  shady  resting- 
place.  The  greyhound  lay  panting  in  her  lap,  and  held  up 
its  broken  paw,  which  she  had  carefully  bound  up  in  the 
morning  when  she  had  first  sat  down  to  rest,  with  a  strip  of 
stuff  that  she  had  torn  with  the  help  of  her  teeth  from  her 
undergarment.  She  now  bound  it  up  afresh,  and  nursed  the 
little  creature,  caressing  it  like  an  infant.  The  dog  was 
wretched  and  suffering  like  herself,  and  besides  it  was  the  only 
being  that,  in  spite  of  her  helplessness,  she  could  cherish  and 


123  HOMO    SUM. 

be  dear  to.  But  ere  long  she  lost  the  power  even  to  speak 
caressing  words  or  to  stir  a  hand  to  stroke  the  dog.  It  slipped 
off  her  lap  and  limped  away,  while  she  sat  staring  blankly  oe- 
fore  her,  and  at  last  forgot  her  sufferings  in  an  uneasy  slumber, 
till  she  was  roused  by  lambe's  barking  and  the  Alexandrian's 
footstep.  Almost  half  dead,  her  mouth  parched  and  her  brain 
on  fire,  while  her  thoughts  whirled  in  confusion,  she  believed 
that  Phcebicius  had  found  her  track,  and  was  come  to  seize 
her.  She  had  already  noted  the  deep  precipice,  to  the  edge  of 
which  she  now  fled,  fully  resolved  to  fling  herself  over  into  the 
depths  below  rather  than  to  surrender  herself  prisoner. 

Paulus  had  rescued  her  from  the  fall,  but  now — as  he  came 
up  to  her  with  two  pieces  of  stone  which  were  slightly  hollowed, 
so  that  he  had  been  able  to  bring  some  fresh  water  in  them, 
and  which  he  held  level  with  great  difficulty,  walking  with 
the  greatest  care — he  thought  that  inexorable  death  had  only 
too  soon  returned  to  claim  the  victim  he  had  snatched  from 
him,  for  Sirona's  head  hung  down  upon  her  breast,  her  face 
was  sunk  toward  her  lap,  and  at  the  back  of  her  head,  where 
her  abundant  hair  parted  into  two  flowing  tresses,  Paulus  ob- 
served on  the  snowy  neck  of  the  insensible  woman  a  red  spot 
which  the  sun  must  have  burned  there. 

His  whole  soul  was  full  of  compassion  for  the  young,  fair, 
and  unhappy  creature,  and,  while  he  took  hold  of  her  chin, 
which  had  sunk  on  her  bosom,  lifted  her  white  face  and  moist- 
ened her  forehead  and  lips  with  water,  he  softly  prayed  for  her 
salvation. 

The  shallow  cavity  of  the  stones  only  offered  room  for  a 
very  small  quantity  of  the  refreshing  moisture,  and  so  he  was 
obliged  to  return  several  times  to  the  spring.  While  he  was 
away  the  dog  remained  by  his  mistress,  and  would  now  lick 
her  hand,  now  put  his  sharp  little  nose  close  up  to  her  mouth, 
and  examine  her  with  an  anxious  expression,  as  if  to  ascertain 
her  state  of  health. 

When  Paulus  had  gone  the  first  time  to  fetch  some  water 
for  Sirona  he  had  found  the  dog  by  the  side  of  the  spring;  and 
he  could  not  help  thinking,  "  The  unreasoning  brute  has 
found  the  water  without  a  guide,  while  his  mistress  is  dying 
of  thirst.  Which  is  the  wiser — the  man  or  the  brute?"  The 
little  dog  on  his  part  strove  to  merit  the  anchorite's  good  feel- 
ings toward  him,  for,  though  at  first  he  had  barked  at  him,  he 
now  was  very  friendly  to  him,  and  looked  him  in  the  face  from 
time  to  time,  as  though  to  ask,  "  Do  you  think  she  will  re- 
cover?'* 

Paulus  was  fond  of  animals,  and  understood  the  little  dog'? 


HOMO   SUM.  133 

language.  When  Sirona's  lips  began  to  move  and  to  recover 
their  rosy  color,  he  stroked  lambe's  smooth  sharp  head,  and 
said,  as  he  held  a  leaf  that  he  had  curled  up  to  hold  some 
water  to  Sirona's  lips,  "  Look,  little  fellow,  how  she  begins  to 
enjoy  it!  A  little  more  of  this,  and  again  a  little  more.  She 
smacks  her  lips  as  if  I  were  giving  her  sweet  Falernian.  I 
will  go  and  fill  the  stone  again;  you  stop  here  with  her,  I  shall 
be  back  again  directly,  but  before  I  return  she  will  have  opened 
her  eyes;  you  are  pleasanter  to  look  upon  than  a  shaggy  old 
gray-beard,  and  she  will  be  better  pleased  to  see  you  than  me 
svhen  she  awakes. "  Paulus's  prognosis  was  justified,  for  when 
he  returned  to  Sirona  with  a  fresh  supply  of  water  she  was 
sitting  upright,  rubbed  her  open  eyes,  stretched  her  limbs, 
clasped  the  greyhound  in  both  arms,  and  burst  into  a  violent 
flood  of  tears. 

The  Alexandrian  stood  aside  motionless,  so  as  not  to  disturb 
her,  thinking  to  himself: 

"  These  tears  will  wash  away  a  large  part  of  her  suffering 
from  her  soul." 

When  at  last  she  was  calmer,  and  began  to  dry  her  eyes,  he 
went  up  to  her,  offered  her  the  stone  cup  of  water,  and  spoke 
to  her  kindly.  She  drank  with  eager  satisfaction,  and  eat  the 
last  bit  of  bread  that  he  could  find  in  the  pocket  of  his  gar- 
ment, soaking  it  in  the  water.  She  thanked  him  with  the 
child-like  sweetness  that  was  peculiar  to  her,  and  then  tried  to 
rise,  and  willingly  allowed  him  to  support  her.  She  was  still 
very  weary,  and  her  head  ached,  but  she  could  stand  and  walk. 

As  soon  as  Paulus  had  satisfied  himself  that  she  had  no 
symptoms  of  fever  he  said,  "  Now,  for  to-day,  you  want  noth- 
ing more  but  a  warm  mess  of  food,  and  a  bed  sheltered  from 
the  night  chill;  I  will  provide  both.  You  sit  down  here;  the 
rocks  are  already  throwing  long  shadows,  and  before  the  sun 
disappears  behind  the  mountain  I  will  return.  While  I  am 
away  your  four-footed  companion  here  will  whUe  away  the 
time." 

He  hastened  down  to  the  spring  with  quick  steps;  close  to 
it  was  the  abandoned  cave  which  he  had  counted  on  inhabiting 
instead  of  his  former  dwelling.  He  found  it  after  a  short 
search,  and  in  it,  to  his  great  joy,  a  well-preserved  bed  of 
dried  plants,  which  he  soon  shook  up  and  relaid,  a  hearth,  and 
wood  proper  for  producing  fire  by  friction,  a  water-jar,  and  in 
a  cellar-like  hole,  whose  opening  was  covered  with  stones  and 
so  concealed  from  any  but  a  practiced  eye,  there  were  several 
cakes  of  hard  bread,  and  one  or  two  pots.     In  one  of  theso 


124  *       HOMO    SUM. 

were  some  good  dates,  in  another  gleamed  some  white  meal,  a 
third  was  half  full  of  sesame  oil,  and  a  fourth  held  some  salt. 

"  How  lucky  it  is,"  muttered  the  anchorite,  as  he  quitted 
the  cave,  "  that  the  old  anchorite  was  such  a  glutton." 

By  the  time  he  returned  to  Sirona  the  sun  was  going  down. 

There  was  something  in  the  nature  and  demeanor  of  Paulus 
which  made  all  distrust  of  him  impossible,  and  Sirona  wab 
ready  to  follow  him,  but  she  felt  so  weak  that  she  could  scarce- 
ly support  herself  on  her  feet. 

"  I  feel,"  she  said,  "as  if  I  were  a  little  child,  and  must 
begin  again  to  learn  to  walk." 

"  Then  let  me  be  your  nurse.  I  knew  a  Spartan  dame  once 
who  had  a  beard  almost  as  rough  as  mine.  Lean  confidently 
on  me,  and  before  we  go  down  the  slope  we  will  go  up  and 
down  the  level  here  two  or  three  times. "  She  took  his  arm, 
and  he  led  her  slowly  up  and  down. 

It  vividly  recalled  a  picture  of  the  days  of  his  youth,  and  he 
remembered  a  day  when  his  sister,  who  was  recovering  from  a 
severe  attack  of  fever,  was  first  allowed  to  go  out  into  the  open 
air.  She  had  gone  out,  clinging  to  his  arm  into  the  peristyle 
of  his  father's  house;  as  he  walked  backward  and  forward  with 
poor,  weary,  abandoned  Sirona,  his  neglected  figure  seemed  by 
degrees  to  assume  the  noble  aspect  of  a  high-born  Greek,  and 
instead  of  the  rough,  rocky  soil,  he  felt  as  if  he  were  treading 
the  beautiful  mosaic  pavement  of  his  father's  court.  Paulus 
was  Menander  again,  and  if  there  was  little  in  the  presence  of 
the  recluse  which  could  recall  his  identity  with  the  old  man  he 
had  trodden  down,  the  despised  anchorite  felt,  while  the  ex- 
pelled and  sinful  woman  leaned  on  his  arm,  the  same  proud 
sense  of  succoring  a  woman  as  when  he  was  the  most  dis- 
tinguished youth  of  a  metropolis,  and  when  he  had  led  forward 
the  master's  much  courted  daughter  in  the  midst  of  a  shouting 
troop  of  slaves. 

Sirona  had  to  remind  Paulas  that  night  was  coming  on,  and 
was  startled,  when  the  hermit  removed  her  hand  from  his  arm 
with  ungentle  haste,  and  called  to  her  to  follow  him  with  a 
r<)ughness  that  was  quite  new  to  him.  She  obeyed,  and  where- 
ever  it  was  necessary  to  climb  over  the  rocks,  he  supported 
and  lifted  her,  but  he  only  spoke  when  she  addressed  him. 

When  they  had  reached  their  destination  he  showed  her  the 
bed,  and  begged  her  to  keep  awake  till  he  should  have  pre- 
pared a  dish  of  warm  food  for  her,  and  he  shortly  brought  her 
a  simple  supper,  and  wished  her  a  good  night's  rest,  after  she 
had  taken  it. 

Sirona  shared  the  brtad  and  the  salted  meal-porridge  with  her 


HOMO   SUM.     ,  125 

dog,  and  then  lay  down  on  the  couch,  where  she  sunk  at  on  re 
into  a  deep,  dreamless  sleep,  while  Paulus  passed  the  night 
sitting  by  the  hearth. 

He  strove  to  banish  sleep  by  constant  prayer,  but  fatigue 
frequently  overcame  him,  and  he  could  not  help  thinking  of 
the  Gaulish  lady,  and  of  the  many  things  which,  if  only  he 
were  still  the  rich  Menander,  he  would  procure  in  Alexandria 
for  her  and  for  her  comfort.  Not  one  prayer  could  he  bring 
to  its  due  conclusion,  for  either  his  eyes  closed  before  he  came 
to  the  "  Amen,"  or  else  worldly  images  crowded  round  him, 
and  forced  him  to  begin  his  devotions  a^ain  from  the  begin- 
ning, when  he  had  succeeded  in  recollecting  himself.  In  this 
half-somnolent  state  he  obtained  not  one  moment  of  inward 
collectedness,  of  quiet  reflection;  not  even  when  he  gazed  up 
at  the  starry  heavens,  or  looked  down  on  the  oasis,  veiled  iu 
night,  where  many  others  like  himself  were  deserted  by  sleepu 
Which  of  the  citizens  could  it  be  that  was  watching  by  that 
light  which  he  saw  glimmering  down  there  in  unwonted  bright- 
ness till  he  himself,  overpowered  by  fatigue,  fell  asleep? 


CHAPTER  n. 

The  light  in  the  town  which  had  attracted  Paulus  was  in 
Petrus's  house,  and  burned  in  Polykarp's  room,  which  formed 
the  whole  of  a  small  upper  story,  which  the  senator  had  con- 
structed for  his  son  over  the  northern  portion  of  the  spacious 
flat  roof  of  the  main  building. 

The  young  man  had  arrived  about  noon  with  the  slaves  he 
had  just  procured,  had  learned  all  that  had  happened  in  his 
absence,  and  had  silently  withdrav\Ti  into  his  own  room  after 
supper  was  ended.     Here  he  still  lingered  over  his  work. 

A  bed,  a  table,  on  and  under  which  lay  a  multitude  of  w^ax- 
tablets,  papyrus-rolls,  metal-points,  and  writing-reeds,  with  a 
small  bench,  on  which  stood  a  water- jar  and  basin,  composed 
the  furniture  of  this  room;  on  its  white-washed  walls  hung 
several  admirable  carvings  in  relief,  and  figures  of  men  and 
animals  stood  near  them  in  long  rows.  In  one  corner,  near  a 
stone  water-jar,  lay  a  large,  damp-shining  mass  of  clay. 

Three  lamps  fastened  to  stands  abundantly  lighted  this 
work-room,  but  chiefly  a  figure  standing  on  a  high  trestle, 
which  Polykarp's  fingers  were  industriously  molding. 

Phoebicius  had  called  the  young  sculptor  a  fop,  and  not  alto- 
gether unjustly,  for  he  loved  to  be  well  dressed,  and  was  choice 
as  to  the  cut  and  color  of  his  simple  garments,  and  he  rarely 
neglected  to  arrange  liis  abundant   hair  with  care,  and  to 


126  HOMO    SUM. 

anoint  it  well;  and  yet  ho  was  almost  indifferent  as  to 
whethei-  his  appearance  pleased  other  people  or  not,  but  he 
knew  nothing  nobler  than  the  human  form,  and  an  instinct, 
which  he  did  not  attempt  to  check,  impelled  him  to  keep  his 
own  person  as  nice  as  he  liked  to  see  that  of  his  neighbor. 

Now,  at  this  hour  of  the  night,  he  wore  only  a  shirt  of  white 
woolen  stuff,  with  a  deep  red  border.  His  locks,  usually  so 
well-kept,  seemed  to  stand  out  from  his  head  separately,  and 
instead  of  smoothing  and  confining  them,  he  added  to  their 
wild  disorder,  for,  as  he  worked,  he  frequently  passed  his  hand 
tlirough  them  with  a  hasty  movement.  A  bat,  attracted  hy 
the  briglit  light,  flew  in  at  the  open  window — which  was 
screened  only  at  the  bottom  by  a  dark  curtain — ^^and  fluttered 
round  the  ceiling:  but  he  did  not  observe  it,  for  his  work  ab- 
sorbed his  whole  soul  and  mind.  In  this  eager  and  passionate 
occupation,  in  which  every  nerve  and  vein  in  his  bemg  seemed 
to  bear  a  part,  no  cry  for  help  would  have  struck  his  ear — 
even  a  flame  breaking  out  close  to  him  would  not  have  caught 
his  eye.  His  cheeks  glowed,  a  fine  dew  of  glistening  sweat 
covered  his  brow,  and  his  very  gaze  seemed  to  become  more 
and  more  firmly  riveted  to  the  sculpture  as  it  took  form  under 
his  hand.  Now  and  again  he  stepped  back  from  it,  and  leane<i[ 
backward  from  his  hips,  raising  his  hands  to  the  level  of  his 
temples,  as  if  to  narrow  the  field  of  vision;  then  he  went  up 
to  the  model,  and  clutched  the  plastic  mass  of  clay,  as  though 
it  were  the  flesh  of  his  enemy. 

He  was  now  at  work  on  the  flowing  hair  of  the  figure  before 
him,  which  had  already  taken  the  outline  of  a  female  head, 
and  he  flung  the  bits  of  clay,  which  he  removed  from  the  back 
of  it  oji  to  the  ground,  as  violently  as  though  he  were  casting 
them  at  an  antagonist  at  his  feet.  Again  his  finger-tips  and 
modeling  tool  were  busy  with  the  mouth,  nose,  cheeks,  and 
eyes,  and  his  own  eyes  took  a  softer  expression,  which  gradual- 
ly grew  to  be  a  gaze  of  ecstatic  dehght,  as  the  features  he  was 
molding  began  to  agree  more  and  more  with  the  image,  which 
at  this  time  excluded  every  other  from  his  imagination. 

At  last,  with  glowing  cheeks,  he  had  finished  rounding  the 
soft  form  of  the  shouJders,  and  drew  back  once  more  to  con- 
template the  effect  of  the  completed  work;  a  cold  shiver  seized 
him,  and  he  felt  himself  impelled  to  lift  it  up,  and  dash  it  to 
the  ground  with  all  his  force.  But  he  soon  had  mastered  this 
stormy  excitement,  he  pushed  his  hand  through  his  hair  again 
and  again,  and  posted  himself,  with  a  melancholy  smile  and 
with  folded  hands,  in  front  of  his  creation;  sunk  deeper  and 
deeper  in  his  contemplation  of  it,  he  did  not  observe  that  the 


HOMO   SUM.  127 

door  behind  him  was  opened,  although  the  flame  of  his  lamps 
flickered  in  the  draught,  and  that  his  mother  had  entered  the 
work-room,  and  by  no  means  endeavored  to  approach  him  un- 
heard, or  to  surprise  him.  In  her  anxiety  for  her  darling, 
who  had  gone  through  so  many  bitter  experiences  during  the 
past  day,  she  had  not  been  able  to  sleep.  Polykarp's  room 
lay  above  her  bedroom,  and  when  his  steps  overhead  betrayed 
tliat,  though  it  was  now  near  morning,  he  had  not  yet  gone  to 
rest,  she  had  risen  from  her  bed  without  waking  Petrus,  who 
seemed  to  be  sleeping.  She  obeyed  her  motherly  impulse  to 
encourage  Polykarp  with  some  loving  words,  and  climbing  up 
the  narrow  stair  that  led  to  the  roof,  she  went  into  his  room. 
Surprised,  irresolute  and  speechless,  she  stood  for  some  time 
behind  the  young  man,  and  looked  at  the  strongly  illuminated 
and  beautiful  features  of  the  newly  formed  bust,  which  was 
only  too  like  its  well-known  prototype.  At  last  she  laid  her 
hand  on  her  son's  shoulder  and  spoke  his  name. 

Polykarp  stepped  back,  and  looked  at  his  mother  in  be- 
wilderment, like  a  man  roused  from  sleep;  but  she  interrupted 
the  stammering  speech  with  wliich  he  tried  to  greet  her,  by 
saying,  gravely  and  not  without  severity,  as  she  pointed  to  the 
statue : 

"  What  does  this  mean?" 

*'  What  should  it  mean,  mother?"  answered  Polykarp,  in  a 
low  tone,  and  shading  his  head  sadly.  "  Ask  me  no  more  at 
present,  for  if  you  gave  me  no  rest,  and  even  if  I  tried  to  ex- 
plain to  you  how  to-day — this  very  day — I  have  felt  impelled 
and  driven  to  make  this  woman's  image,  still  you  could  not 
understand  me — no,  nor  any  one. else." 

"God  forbid  that  I  should  ever  understand  it!"  cried 
Dorothea.  "  '  Thou  shalt  not  covet  thy  neighbor's  wife,'  was 
the  commandment  of  the  Lord  on  the  mountain.  And  yon? 
You  think  I  could  not  understand  you?  Who  should  under- 
stand you,  then,  if  not  your  mother?  This  I  certainly  do  not 
comprehend,  that  a  son  of  Petrus  and  of  mine  should  have 
thrown  all  the  teaching  and  the  example  of  his  parents  so 
utterly  to  the  wind.  But  what  you  are  aimhig  at  with  this 
statue  it  seems  to  me  is  not  hard  to  guess.  As  the  forbidden 
fruit  hangs  too  high  for  you,  you  degrade  your  art,  and  make 
to  yourself  an  image  that  resembles  her  according  to  your 
taste.  Simply  and  plainly  it  comes  to  this:  as  you  can  no 
longer  see  the  Gaul's  wife  in  her  own  person,  and  yet  can  not 
exist  without  the  sweet  presence  of  the  fair  one,  you  make  a 
portrait  of  clay  to  make  love  to,  and  you  will  carry  on  idolatry 


138  HOMO    SUM. 

oef ore  it,,  as  once  the  Jews  did  \  before  the  golden  calf  and  the 
brazen  serpent. " 

Polykarp  submitted  to  his  mother's  angry  blame  in  silence, 
but  in  painful  emotion.  Dorothea  had  never  before  spoken  to 
him  thus,  and  to  hear  such  words  from  the  very  lips  which 
were  used  to  address  him  with  such  heartfelt  tenderness  gave 
.lim  unspeakable  pain.  Hitherto  she  had  always  been  inclined 
to  make  excuses  for  liis  weaknesses  and  little  faults;  nay,  the 
zeal  with  which  she  had  observed  and  pointed  out  his  merits 
and  performances  before  strangers  as  well  as  before  their  own 
family,  had  often  seemed  to  him  embarrassing.  And  now? 
She  had  indeed  reason  to  blame  him,  for  Sirona  was  the  wife 
of  another;  she  had  never  even  noticed  his  admiration,  and 
now,  they  all  said,  had  committed  a  crime  for  the  sake  of  a 
stranger.  It  must  seem  both  a  mad  and  a  sinful  thing  in  the 
eyes  of  men  that  he  of  all  others  should  sacrifice  the  best  he 
had — his  art — and  how  little  could  Dorothea,  who  usually  en- 
deavored to  understand  him,  comprehend  the  overpowering 
impulse  which  had  driven  him  to  this  task. 

He  loved  and  honored  his  mother  with  his  whole  heart,  and 
feeling  that  she  was  doing  herself  an  injustice  by  her  false  and 
low  estimate  of  his  proceedings,  he  interrupted  her  eager  dis- 
course, raising  his  hands  imploringly  to  her. 

"  No,  mother,  no!"  he  exclaimed.  "  As  truly  as  God  is  my 
helper,  it  is  not  so.  It  is  true  that  I  have  molded  this  head, 
but  not  to  keep  it  and  to  commit  the  sin  of  worshiping  it, 
but  rather  to  free  myself  from  the  image  that  stands  before 
my  mind's  eye  by  day  and  by  niglit,  in  the  city  and  in  the 
desert,  whose  beauty  distracts  my  mind  when  I  think,  and  my 
devotions  when  I  try  to  pray.  To  whom  is  it  given  to  read, 
the  soul  of  man?  And  is  not  Sirona's  form  and  face  the  love- 
liest image  of  the  Most  High?  So  to  represent  it,  that  the 
who\'  charm  that  her  presence  exercises  over  me  might  also  be 
felt  by  every  beholder  is  a  task  that  I  have  set  myself  ever 
since  her  arrival  in  our  house.  I  had  to  go  back  to  the  capital, 
and  the  work  I  longed  to  achieve  took  a  clearer  form;  at  every 
hour  I  discovered  something  to  change  and  to  improve  in  the 
pose  of  the  head,  the  glance  of  the  eye  or  the  expression  of  the 
mouth.  But  still  I  lacked  courage  to  put  the  work  in  hand, 
for  it  seemed  too  audacious  to  attempt  to  give  reality  to  the 
glorious  image  in  my  soul,  by  the  aid  of  gray  clay  and  pale 
cold  marble;  to  reproduce  it  so  that  the  perfect  work  should 
delight  the  eye  of  sense,  no  less  than  the  image  enshrined  in 
my  breast  delights  my  inward  eye.  At  the  same  time  I  was 
not  idle,  I  gained  the  prize  for  the  model  of  the  lions,  and  if 


HOMO    SUM.  129 

I  have  succeeded  with  the  Good  Shepherd  blessing  the  flock, 
which  is  for  the  sarcophagus  of  Comes,  and  if  the  master  could 
praise  the  expression  of  devoted  tenderness  in  the  look  of  the 
Redeemer,  I  know — nay,  do  not  interrupt  me,  mother,  for 
what  I  felt  was  a  pure  emotion  and  no  sin — I  know  that  it  was 
because  I  was  myself  so  full  of  love  tliat  I  was  enabled  to  in- 
spire the  very  stone  with  love.  At  last  I  had  no  peace,  and 
even  without  my  father's  orders  I  must  have  returned  home; 
then  I  saw  her  again,  and  found  her  even  more  lovely  than  the 
image  which  reigned  in  her  soul.  I  heard  her  voice,  and  her 
silvery  bell-like  laughter — and  then — and  then —  You  know 
very  well  what  I  learned  yesterday.  The  unworthy  wife  of  an 
unworthy  husband,  the  woman  Sirona  is  gone  from  me  for- 
ever, and  T  was  striving  to  drive  her  image  from  my  soul,  to 
annihilate  it  and  dissipate  it — but  in  vain!  and  by  degrees  a 
wonderful  stress  of  creative  power  came  upon  me.  I  hastily 
placed  the  lamps,  took  the  clay  in  my  hand,  and  feature  by 
feature  I  brought  forth  with  bitter  joy  the  image  that  is  deeply 
graven  in  my  heart,  believing  that  thus  I  might  be  released 
from  the  spell.  There  is  the  fruit  which  was  ripened  iu  my 
heart,  but  there,  where  it  so  long  has  dwelt,  I  feel  a  dismal 
void,  and  if  the  husk  which  so  long  tenderly  infolded  this 
image  were  to  wither  and  fall  asunder,  I  should  not  wonder  at 
it.     To  that  thing  there  clings  the  best  part  of  my  life. " 

"  Enough!"  exclaimed  Dorothea,  interrupting  her  son,  who 
stood  before  her  in  great  agitation  and  with  trembling  lips. 
"  God  forbid  that  that  mask  there  should  destroy  your  life  and 
soul.  I  suffer  nothing  impure  within  my  house,  and  you 
should  not  in  your  heart.  That  which  is  evil  can  never  more 
be  fair,  and  however  lovely  the  face  there  may  look  to  you,  it 
looks  quite  as  repulsive  to  me  when  I  reflect  that  it  probably 
smiled  still  more  fascinatingly  on  some  strolling  beggar.  If 
the  Gaul  brings  her  back  I  will  turn  her  out  of  my  house,  and 
I  will  destroy  her  image  with  my  own  hands  if  you  do  not 
break  it  in  pieces  on  the  spot." 

Dorothea's  eyes  were  swimming  in  tears  as  she  spoke  these 
words.  She  had  felt  with  pride  and  emotion  during  her  son's 
speech  how  noble  and  high-minded  he  was,  and  the  idea  that 
this  rare  and  precious  treasure  should  be  spoiled  or  perhaps 
altogether  ruined  for  the  sake  of  a  lost  woman,  drove  her  to 
desperation,  and  filled  her  motherly  heart  with  indignation. 

Firmly  resolved  to  carry  out  her  threat,  she  stepped  toward 
the  figure,  but  Polykarp  placed  himself  in  her  way,  raising  his 
arm  imploringly  to  defend  it,  and  saying,  "  Not  to-day — not 
yet,  mother!    I  will  cover  it  up,  and  will  not  look  at  it  again 


130  HOMO     SUM. 

till  to-morrow,  but  once — only  once — I  must  see  it  again  by 
sunlight." 

"  So  that  to-morrow  the  old  madness  may  revive  you!"  cried 
Dorothea.  "  Move  out  of  my  way  or  take  the  hammer  your- 
self." 

"  You  order  it,  and  you  are  my  mother,"  said  Polykarp. 

He  slowly  went  up  to  the  chest  in  which  his  tools  and  instru- 
ments lay,  and  bitter  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks  as  he  took  his 
heaviest  hammer  in  his  hand. 

When  the  sky  has  shone  for  many  days  in  summer-blue, 
and  then  suddenly  the  clouds  gather  for  a  storm,  when  the 
first  silent  but  fearful  flash,  with  its  noisy  but  harmless  asso- 
ciate, the  thunder-clap,  has  terrified  the  world,  a  second  and 
third  thunder-bolt  immediately  follow.  Since  the  stormy  night 
of  yesterday  had  broken  in  on  the  peaceful,  industrious  and 
monotonous  life  by  the  senator's  hearth,  many  things  had  hap- 
pened that  had  filled  him  and  his  wife-  with  fresh  anxiety. 

In  other  houses  it  was  nothing  remarkable  that  a  slave 
should  run  away,  buc  in  the  senator's  it  was  more  than  twenty 
years  since  such  a  thing  had  occurred,  and  yesterday  the  goat- 
herd Miriam  had  disappeared.  This  was  vexatious,  but  the 
silent  sorrow  of  his  son  Polykarp  was  a  greater  anxiety  to 
Petrus.  It  did  not  please  him  that  the  youth,  who  was  usual- 
ly so  vehement,  should  submit  unresistingly  and  almost  in- 
differently to  the  Bishop  Agapitus,  who  prohibited  his  com- 
pleting his  lions.  His  son's  sad  gaze,  his  crushed  and  broken 
aspect  were  still  in  his  mind  when  at  last  he  went  to  rest  for 
the  night;  it  was  already  late,  but  sleep  avoided  him  even  as 
it  had  avoided  Dorothea.  While  the  mother  was  thinking  of 
her  son's  sinful  love  and  the  bleeding  wound  in  his  young 
and  betrayed  heart,  the  father  grieved  for  Polykarp's  baffled 
hopes  of  exercising  his  heart  on  a  great  work,  and  recalled  the 
saddest,  bitterest  day  of  his  own  youth;  for  he,  too,  had  served 
his  apprenticeship  under  a  sculptor  in  Alexandria,  had  looked 
up  to  the  works  of  the  heathen  as  noble  models,  and  striven  to 
form  himself  upon  them.  He  had  already  been  permitted  by 
his  master  to  execute  designs  of  his  own,  and  out  of  the 
abundance  of  subjects  which  offered  themselves  he  had  chosen 
to  model  an  Ariadne,  waiting  and  longing  for  the  return  of 
Theseus,  as  a  symbolic  image  of  his  own  soul  awaiting  its  sal- 
vation. How  this  work  had  filled  his  mind!  how  delightful 
had  the  hours  of  labor  seemed  to  him! — when,  suddenly,  his 
stern  father  had  come  to  the  city,  had  seen  his  work  before  it 
was  quite  finished,  and  instead  of  praising  it  had  scorned  it; 


HOMO    SUM.  131 

hod  abused  it  as  a  heathen  idol,  and  had  commanded  Petrus  to 
return  home  with  him  immediately  and  to  remain  there,  for 
that  his  son  should  be  a  pious  Christian,  and  a  good  stone- 
mason withal — not  half  a  heathen,  and  a  maker  of  false  gods. 

Petrus  had  much  loved  his  art,  but  he  offered  no  resistance 
to  his  father's  orders;  he  followed  him  back  to  the  oasis,  there 
to  superintend  the  work  of  the  slaves  who  hewed  the  stone,  to 
measure  the  granite  blocks  for  sarcophagi  and  pillars,  and  to 
direct  the  cutting  of  them. 

His  father  was  a  man  of  steel,  and  he  himself  a  lad  of  iron, 
and  when  he  saw  himself  compelled  to  yield  to  his  father  and 
to  leave  his  master's  workshop,  to  abandon  his  cherished  and 
unfinished  work  and  to  become  an  artisan  and  a  man  of  busi- 
ness, he  swore  never  again  to  take  a  piece  of  clay  in  his  hand, 
or  to  wield  a  chisel.  And  he  kept  his  word  even  after  his 
father's  death;  but  his  creative  instincts  and  love  of  art  con- 
tinued to  live  and  work  in  him,  and  were  transmitted  to  his 
%wo  sons. 

Antonius  was  a  highly  gifted  artist,  and  if  Polykarp's  master 
was  not  mistaken,  and  if  he  himself  were  not  misled  by  father- 
ly affection,  his  second  son  was  on  the  high-road  to  the  very 
first  rank  in  art — to  a  position  reached  only  by  elect  spirits. 

Petrus  knew  the  models  for  the  Good  Shepherd  and  for  the 
lions,  and  declared  to  himself  that  these  last  were  unsurpassa- 
ble in  truth,  power,  and  majesty.  How  eagerly  must  the 
young  artist  long  to  execute  them  in  hard  stone,  and  to  see 
them  placed  in  the  honored  though  indeed  pagan  spot  which 
was  intended  for  them.  And  now  the  bishop  forbade  liim  to 
work,  and  the  poor  fellow  might  well  be  feeling  just  as  ho 
himself  had  felt  thirty  years  ago,  when  he  had  been  com- 
manded to  abandon  the  immature  first-fruits  of  his  labor. 

Was  the  bishop  indeed  right?  This  and  many  other  ques- 
tions agitated  the  sleepless  father,  and  as  soon  as  he  heard  that 
his  wife  had  risen  from  her  bed  to  go  to  her  son,  whose  foot- 
Bteps  he,  too,  could  hear  overhead,  he  got  up  and  followed  her. 

He  found  the  door  of  the  work-room  open,  and,  himself  un- 
seen and  unheard,  he  was  witness  to  his  wife's  vehement 
speech,  and  to  the  lad's  justification,  while  Polykarp's  work 
stood  in  the  full  light  of  the  lamps,  exactly  in  front  of  him. 

His  gaze  was  spell-bound  to  the  mass  of  clay;  he  looked  and 
looked,  and  was  not  weary  of  looking,  and  his  soul  swelled 
with  the  same  awe-struck  sense  of  devout  admiration  that  it 
had  experienced  when,  for  the  first  time  in  his  early  youth, 
he  saw  with  his  own  eyes  the  works  of  the  great  old  Athenian 
luafiters  in  C%sareum. 


133  HOMO    SUM. 

And  this  head  was  his  son's  work! 

He  stood  there  greatly  overcome,  his  hands  clasped  together, 
holding  his  breath  till  his  mouth  was  dry,  and  swallowmg  hia 
tears  to  keep  them  from  falling.  At  the  same  time  he  listened 
with  anxious  attention,  so  as  not  to  lose  one  word  of  Poly- 
karp's. 

"  Ay,  thus  and  thus  only  are  great  works  of  art  begotten," 
said  he  to  himself,  "  and  if  the  Lord  had  bestowed  on  me  such 
gifts  as  on  this  lad,  no  father,  nay,  no  god,  should  have  com- 
pelled me  to  leave  my  Ariadne  unfinished.  The  attitude  of 
the  body  is  not  bad,  I  should  say — but  the  head,  the  face — 
ay,  the  man  who  can  mold  such  a  likeness  as  that  has  his 
hand  and  eye  guided  by  the  holy  spirits  of  art.  He  who  has 
done  that  head  will  be  praised  in  the  latter  days  together  with 
the  great  Athenian  masters — and  he,  yes,  he,  merciful  Heaven! 
he  is  my  own  beloved  son!" 

A  blessed  sense  of  rejoicing,  such  as  he  had  not  felt  since  his 
early  youth,  filled  his  heart,  and  Dorothea's  ardor  seemed  to 
him  half  pitiful  and  half  amusing. 

It  was  not  till  his  duteous  son  took  the  hammer  in  his  hand 
that  he  stepped  between  his  wife  and  the  bust,  saying,  kindly: 

"  There  will  be  time  enough  to-morrow  to  destroy  the  work. 
Forget  the  model,  my  son,  now  that  you  have  taken  advantage 
of  it  so  successfully.  I  know  of  a  better  mistress  for  you — 
Art — to  whom  belongs  everything  of  beauty  that  the  Most  High 
has  created — Art  in  all  its  breadth  and  fullness,  not  fettered 
and  narrowed  by  any  Agapitus." 

Polykarp  flung  himself  into  his  father's  arms,  and  the  stem 
man,  hardly  master  of  his  emotions,  kissed  the  boy's  forehead, 
his  eyes,  and  his  cheeks. 

CHAPTEK  m. 

At  noon  of  the  following  day  the  senator  went  to  the 
women's  room,  and  while  he  was  still  on  the  threshold  he 
asked  his  wife — who  was  busy  at  the  loom — 

"Where  is  Polykarp?  I  did  not  find  him  with  Antonius, 
who  is  working  at  the  placing  of  the  altar,  9«d  I  thought  I 
might  find  him  here." 

After  going  to  the  church,"  said  Dorothea,  "  he  went  up 
the  mountain.  Go  down  to  the  workshops,  Marthana,  and  see 
if  your  brother  is  come  back." 

Her  daughter  obeyed  quickly  and  gladly,  for  her  brother 
was  to  her  the  dearest,  and  seemed  to  her  to  be  the  best  of 
men.     As  soon  as  the  pair  were  alone  together  Petrus  saidf 


HOMO    SUM.  133 

»ehile  he  held  out  his  hand  to  his  wife  with  genial  affection, 
"Well,  mother — shake  hands. "  Dorothea  j)aused  for  an  in- 
stant, looking  him  in  the  face,  as  if  to  ask  him,  "  Does  your 
pride  at  last  allow  you  to  cease  doing  me  an  injustice?"  It 
was  a  reproach,  but  in  truth  not  a  severe  one,  or  her  lips 
would  hardly  have  trembled  so  tenderly,  as  she  said: 

"  You  can  not  be  angry  with  me  any  longer,  and  it  is  well 
that  all  should  once  more  be  as  it  ought." 

All  certainly  had  not  been  "  as  it  ought, "  for  since  the  husband 
and  wife  had  met  in  Polykarp's  work-room  they  had  behaved 
to  each  other  as  if  they  were  strangers.  In  their  bedroom,  on 
the  way  to  church,  and  at  breakfast,  they  had  spoken  to  each 
no  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary,  or  than  was  requisite 
in  order  to  conceal  their  difference  from  the  servants  and  chil- 
dren. Up  to  this  time  an  understanding  had  always  subsisted 
between  them  that  had  never  taken  form  in  words,  and  yet 
that  had  scarcely  in  a  single  case  been  infringed,  that  neither 
should  ever  praise  one  of  their  children  for  anything  that  the 
other  thought  blameworthy,  and  vice  versa. 

But  on  this  night  her  husband  had  followed  up  her  severest 
condemnation  by  passionately  embracing  the  wrong-doer. 
Never  had  she  been  so  stern  in  any  circumstances,  while  on 
the  other  hand  her  husband,  so  long  as  she  could  remember, 
had  never  been  so  soft-hearted  and  tender  to  his  son,  and  yet 
she  had  controlled  herself  so  far  as  not  to  contradict  Petrus  in 
Polykarp's  presence,  and  to  leave  the  work-room  in  silence  with 
her  husband. 

"  "When  we  are  once  alone  together  in  the  bedroom," 
thought  she,  "  I  will  represent  to  him  his  error  as  I  ought, 
and  he  will  have  to  answer  for  himself." 

But  she  did  not  carry  out  this  purpose,  for  she  felt  that 
Eomething  must  be  passing  in  her  husband's  mind  that  she 
did  not  understand;  otherwise  how  could  his  grave  eyes  shine 
so  mildly  and  kindly,  and  his  stern  lips  smile  so  affectionately 
ftfter  all  that  had  occurred  when  he,  lamp  in  hand,  had 
mounted  the  narrow  stair.  He  had  often  told  her  that  she 
could  read  his  soul  like  an  open  book,  but  she  did  not  conceal 
from  herself  that  there  were  certain  sides  of  that  complex 
structure  whose  meaning  she  was  incapable  of  comprehending. 
And,  strange  to  say,  she  ever  and  again  came  upon  these  in- 
comprehensible phases  of  his  soul,  when  the  images  of  the 
gods,  and  the  idolatrous  temples  of  the  heathen,  or  when  their 
sons'  enterprises  and  work  were  the  matters  in  hand.  And 
yet  Petrus  was  the  son  of  a  pious  Christian;  but  his  grand- 
father had  been  a  Greek  heathen^  and  hence  p.erhaii@  a  certaiu 


134  HOMO   SUM. 

something  wrought  in  his  blood  which  tormented  her,  because 
she  could  not  reconcile  it  with  Agapitus's  doctrine,  but  which 
she  nevertheless  dared  not  attempt  to  oppose  because  her  taci- 
turn husband  never  spoke  out  with  so  much  cheerfulness  and 
frankness  as  when  he  might  talk  of  these  things  with  his  sons 
and  their  friends,  who  often  accompanied  them  to  the  oasis. 
Certainly  it  could  be  nothing  sinful  that  at  this  particular 
moment  seemed  to  light  up  her  husband's  face  and  restore  his 
youth. 

"  They  just  are  men,*'  said  she  to  herself,  "  and  in  many 
things  they  have  the  advantage  of  us  women.  The  old  man 
looks  as  he  did  on  his  wedding-day!  Polykarp  is  the  very 
image  of  him,  as  every  one  says,  and  now,  looking  at  the 
father,  and  recalling  to  my  mind  how  the  boy  looked  when  he 
told  me  how  he  could  not  refrain  from  making  Sirona's  por- 
trait, I  must  say  that  I  never  saw  such  a  likeness  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  life." 

He  bid  her  a  friendly  good-night  and  extinguished  the  lamp. 
She  would  willingly  have  said  a  loving  word  to  him,  for  his 
contented  expression  touched  and  comforted  her,  but  that 
would  just  then  have  been  too  much  after  what  she  had  gone 
through  in  her  son's  work-room.  In  former  years  it  had  hap- 
pened pretty  often  that,  when  one  of  them  had  caused  dis- 
satisfaction to  the  other,  and  there  had  been  some  quarrel 
between  them,  they  had  gone  to  rest  unreconciled,  but  the 
older  they  grew  the  more  rarely  did  this  occur,  and  it  was  now 
a  long  tiriie  since  any  shadow  had  fallen  on  the  perfect  serenity 
of  their  married  life. 

Three  years  ago,  on  the  occasion  of  the  marriage  of  their 
eldest  son,  they  had  been  standing  together,  looking  up  at  the 
starry  sky,  when  Petrus  had  come  close  up  to  her,  and  had 
said: 

"  How  calmly  and  peacefully  the  wanderers  up  there  follow 
their  roads  without  jostling  or  touching  one  another!  As  I 
walked  home  alone  from  the  quarries  by  their  friendly  light,  I 
thought  of  many  things.  Perhaps  there  was  once  a  tinae  when 
the  stars  rushed  wildly  about  in  confusion,  crossing  each 
other's  path,  while  many  a  star  flew  in  pieces  at  the  impact. 
Then  the  Lord  created  man,  and  love  came  into  the  world, 
and  filled  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  He  commanded  the 
stars  to  be  our  light  by  night;  then  each  began  to  respect  the 
path  of  the  other,  and  the  stars  more  rarely  came  into  collision 
till  even  the  smallest  and  swiftest  kept  to  its  own  path  and  its 
own  period,  and  the  shining  host  above  grew  to  be  as  harmoni- 
ous as  it  is  numberless.     Love  and  a  common  purpose  worked 


HOMO   SUM.  130 

this  marvel,  for  he  who  loves  another  will  do  him  no  injury, 
and  he  who  is  bound  to  perfect  a  work  with  the  help  of  an- 
other will  not  hinder  nor  delay  him.  We  two  have  long  since 
found  the  right  road,  and  if  at  any  time  one  of  us  is  inclined 
to  cross  the  path  of  the  other  we  are  held  back  by  love  and  by 
our  common  duty,  namely,  to  shed  a  pure  light  on  the  path  of 
our  children/' 

Dorothea  had  never  forgotten  these  words,  and  they  came 
into  her  mind  now  again  when  Petrus  held  out  his  hand  to  hei 
so  warmly;  as  she  laid  hers  in  it  she  said: 

"  For  the  sake  of  dear  peace,  well  and  good — but  one  thing 
I  can  not  leave  unsaid.  Soft-hearted  weakness  is  not  usually 
your  defect,  but  you  will  utterly  spoil  Polykarp. " 

"  Leave  him,  let  us  leave  him  as  he  is,"  cried  Petrus,  kiss- 
ing his  wife's  brow.  "It  is  strange  how  we  have  exchanged 
parts!  Yesterday  you  were  exhorting  me  to  mildness  toward 
the  lad,  and  to-day — " 

"  To-day  I  am  severer  than  you,"  interrupted  Dorothea. 
"  Who,  indeed,  could  guess  that  an  old  gray-beard  would 
derogate  from  the  duties  of  his  office  as  father  and  as  judge 
for  the  sake  of  a  woman's  smiling  face  in  clay — as  Esau  sold 
his  birth-right  for  a  mess  of  pottage?" 

"  And  to  whom  would  it  occur,"  asked  Petrus,  taking  up 
his  wife's  tone,  "  that  so  tender  a  mother  as  you  would  con- 
demn her  favorite  son,  because  he  labored  to  earn  peace  for  his 
soul  by  a  deed — ^by  a  work  for  which  his  master  might  envy 
him?" 

"  I  have  indeed  observed,"  interrupted  Dorothea,  "  that 
Sirona's  image  has  bewitched  you,  and  you  speak  as  if  the 
boy  had  achieved  some  great  miracle.  I  do  not  know  much 
about  modeling  and  sculpture,  and  I  will  not  contradict  you, 
but  if  the  fair-haired  creature's  face  were  less  pretty,  and  if 
Polykarp  had  not  executed  anything  remarkable,  would  it 
have  made  the  smallest  difference  in  what  he  has  done  and  felt 
wrong?  Certainly  not.  But  that  is  just  like  men;  they  only 
care  for  success. " 

"  And  with  perfect  justice,"  answered  Petrus,  "  if  the  suc- 
cess is  attained,  not  in  mere  child's  play,  but  by  a  severe 
struggle.  '  To  him  that  hath  shall  more  be  given,'  says  the 
scripture,  and  he  who  has  a  soul  more  richly  graced  than  others 
have — he  who  is  helped  by  good  spirits — he  shall  be  forgiven 
many  things  that  even  a  mild  judge  would  be  unwilling  to 
pardon  in  a  man  of  poor  gifts,  who  torments  and  exerts  him- 
self and  yet  brings  nothing  to  perfection.  Be  kind  to  the  boy 
again.     Do  you  know  what  prospect  lies  before  you  througb 


186  HOMO    SUM. 

him?  You  yourself  in  your  life  have  done  much  good  and 
spoken  much  wisdom,  and  I,  and  the  children,  and  the  people 
in  this  place,  Avill  never  forget  it  all.  But  I  can  promise  you 
the  gratitude  of  the  best  and  noblest  who  now  live  or  who  will 
live  in  centuries  to  come — for  that  you  are  the  mother  of 
Polykarp!" 

"And  people  say,"  cried  Dorothea,  "that  every  mother 
has  four  eyes  for  her  children's  merits.  If  that  is  true,  then 
fathers  no  doubt  have  ten,  and  you  as  many  as  Argus,  ot 
whom  the  heathen  legends  speaks —  But  here  comes  Poly- 
karp." 

Petrus  went  forward  to  meet  his  son,  and  gave  him  his  hand, 
but  in  quite  a  different  manner  to  what  he  had  formerly  shown; 
at  least  it  seemed  to  Dorothea  that  her  husband  received  the 
youth,  no  longer  as  his  father  and  master,  but  as  a  friend 
greets  a  friend  who  is  his  equal  in  privileges  and  judgment. 
When  Ploykarp  turned  to  greet  her  also  she  colored  all  over, 
for  the  thought  flashed  through  her  mind  that  her  son,  when 
he  thought  of  the  past  night,  must  regard  her  as  unjust  or 
foolish;  but  she  soon  recovered  her  own  calm  equanimity,  for 
Polykarp  was  the  same  as  ever,  and  she  read  in  his  eyes  that 
he  felt  toward  her  the  same  as  yesterday  and  as  ever. 

"  Love,"  thought  she,  "  is  not  extinguished  by  injustice,  aa 
fire  is  by  water.  It  blazes  up  brighter  or  less  bright,  no  doubt, 
according  to  the  way  the  wind  blows,  but  it  can  not  be  wholly 
smothered — least  of  all  by  death." 

Polykarp  had  been  up  the  mountain,  and  Dorothea  was 
quite  satisfied  when  he  related  what  had  led  him  thither.  He 
had  long  since  planned  the  execution  of  a  statue  of  Moses,  and 
when  his  father  had  left  him  he  could  not  get  the  tall  and 
dignified  figure  of  the  old  man  out  of  his  mind.  He  felt  that 
he  had  found  the  right  model  for  his  work.  He  must,  he 
would  forget — and  he  knew  that  he  could  only  succeed  if  he 
found  a  task  which  might  promise  to  give  some  new  occupa 
tion  to  his  bereaved  soul.  Still,  he  had  seen  the  form  of  the 
mighty  man  of  God  which  he  proposed  to  model  only  in  vague 
outline  before  his  mind's  eye,  and  he  had  been  prompted  to  go 
to'  a  spot  whither  many  pilgrims  resorted,  and  which  was 
known  as  the  Place  of  Communion,  because  it  was  there  that 
the  Lord  had  spoken  to  Moses.  There  Polykarp  had  spent 
some  time,  for  there,  if  anywhere — there,  where  the  Law-giver 
himself  had  stood,  must  he  find  right  inspiration. 

"  And  you  have  accomplished  your  end?"  asked  his  father. 

Polykarp  shook  his  head. 

"  If  you  go  often  enough  to  the  sacred  spot  it  will  come  to 


HOMO    SUM.  137 

you/'  said  Dorothea.     "  The  beginning  is  always  the  chief 
difficulty;  only  begin  at  once  to  model  your  father's  head. " 

"  I  have  already  begun  it,"  replied  Polykarp,  "  but  I  am 
still  tired  from  last  night. " 

"  You  look  pale  and  have  dark  lines  under  your  eyes,"  said 
Dorothea,  anxiously.  "  Go  upstairs  and  lie  down  to  rest.  I 
will  follow  you  and  bring  you  a  beaker  of  old  wine. " 

"  That  will  not  hurt  him,"  said  Petrus,  thinking  as  he 
npoke — "  A  draught  of  Lethe  would  serve  him  even  better." 

When,  an  hour  later,  the  senator  sought  his  son  in  his  work- 
room, he  found  him  sleeping,  and  the  wine  stood  untouched 
on  the  table,  Peti'us  softly  laid  his  hand  on  his  son's  forehead 
and  found  it  cool  and  free  from  fever.  Then  he  went  quietly 
up  to  the  portrait  of  Sirona,  raised  the  cloth  with  which  it  was 
covered,  and  stood  before  it  a  long  time  sunk  in  thought.  At 
last  he  drew  back,  covered  it  up  again,  and  examined  the 
models  which  stood  on  a  shelf  fastened  to  the  wall. 

A  small  female  figure  particularly  fixed  his  attention,  and  he 
was  taking  it  adminngly  in  his  hand  when  Polykarp  awoke. 

' '  That  is  the  image  of  the  Goddess  of  Fate — ^that  is  a  Tyche, " 
said  Petrus. 

"  Do  not  be  angry  with  me,  father,"  entreated  Polykarp. 
"  You  know,  the  figure  of  a  Tyche  is  to  stand  in  the  hand  of 
the  statue  of  the  Caesar  that  is  intended  for  the  new  city  of 
Constantine,  and  so  I  have  tried  to  represent  the  goddess. 
The  drapery  and  pose  of  the  arms,  I  think,  are  a  success, 
but  I  failed  in  the  head." 

Petrus,  who  had  listened  to  him  with  attention,  glanced  in- 
voluntarily at  the  head  of  Sirona,  and  Polykarp  followed  his 
eyes,  surprised  and  almost  startled. 

The  father  and  son  had  understood  each  other,  and  Polykarp 
said: 

"  I  had  already  thought  of  that." 

Then  he  sighed  bitterly,  and  said  to  himself: 

"  Yes  and  verily,  she  is  the  goddess  of  my  fate."  But  he 
dared  not  utter  this  aloud. 

But  Petrus  had  heard  him  sigh,  and  said,  "  Let  that  pass. 
This  head  smiles  with  sweet  fascination,  and  the  countenance 
of  the  goddess  that  rules  the  actions  of  the  immortals  should 
be  stern  and  grave." 

Polykarp  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 

"Yes,  father,"  he  exclaimed;  "Fate  is  terrible — and  yet 
I  will  represent  the  goddess  with  a  smiling  mouth,  for  that 
which  is  most  terrible  in  her  is,  that  she  rules  not  by  stem 
'.ft we,  but  smiles  while  she  makes  us  her  sport." 


138  HOMO    SUM. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

It  was  a  splendid  morning;  not  a  cloud  dimmed  the  sky 
which  spread  high  above  the  desert,  mountain,  and  oasis,  liko 
an  arched  tent  of  uniform  deep-blue  silk.  How  delicious  it  in 
to  breathe  the  pure,  light,  aromatic  air  on  the  heights  before 
the  rays  of  the  sun  acquire  their  midday  power,  and  the  shad- 
ows of  the  heated  porphyry  cliffs,  growing  shorter  and  shorter, 
at  last  wholly  disappear. 

With  what  delight  did  Sirona  inhale  this  pure  atmosphere, 
when  after  a  long  night — the  fourth  that  she  had  passed  in  tho 
anchorite's  dismal  cave — she  stepped  out  into  the  air.  Paulus 
sat  by  the  hearth,  and  was  so  busily  engaged  with  some  carv- 
ing that  he  did  not  observe  her  approach, 

"Kind,  good  man!"  thought  Sirona,  as  she  perceived  a 
steaming  pot  on  the  fire,  and  the  palm  branches  which  the 
Alexandrian  had  fastened  up  by  the  entrance  to  the  cave,  to 
screen  her  from  the  mountain  sun.  She  knew  the  way  with- 
out a  guide  to  the  spring  from  which  Paulus  had  brought  her 
water  at  their  first  meeting,  and  she  now  slipped  away,  and 
went  down  to  it  with  a  pretty  little  pitcher  of  burned  clay  in 
her  hand.  Paulus  did  indeed  see  her,  but  he  pretended  that 
he  neither  saw  nor  heard,  for  he  knew  she  was  going  there  to 
wash  herself,  and  to  dress  and  smarten  herself  as  well  as  might 
be — for  was  she  not  a  woman!  When  she  returned  she  looked 
not  less  fresh  and  charming  than  on  that  morning  when  she 
had  been  seen  and  watched  by  Hermas.  True,  her  heart  was 
sore;  true,  she  was  perplexed  and  miserable,  but  sleep  and  rest 
had  long  since  effaced  from  her  healthy,  youthful  and  elastic 
frame  all  traces  left  by  that  fearful  day  of  flight;  and  fate, 
which  often  means  best  by  us  when  it  shows  us  a  hostile  face, 
had  sent  her  a  minor  anxiety  to  divert  her  from  her  graver 
cares. 

Her  greyhound  was  very  ill,  and  it  seemed  that  in  the  ill- 
tjreatment  it  had  experienced,  not  only  its  leg  had  been  broken, 
but  that  it  had  suffered  some  internal  injury.  The  brisk,  hvely 
little  creature  fell  down  powerless  whenever  it  tried  to  stand, 
and  when  she  took  it  up  to  nurse  it  comfortably  in  her  lap,  it 
whined  pitifully,  and  looked  up  at  her  sorrowfully,  and  as  if 
complaining  to  her.  It  would  take  neither  food  nor  drink;  its 
little  nose  was  hot;  and  when  she  left  the  cave  lambe  lay 
panting  on  the  fine  woolen  coverlet  which  Paulus  had  spread 
upon  the  bed,  unable  even  to  look  after  her. 


HOMO  su>r.  139 

Before  taking  the  dog  the  water  she  had  fetched  in  Ihe 
graceful  jar — which  was  another  gift  from  her  hospitable 
friend — she  went  up  to  Paulus  and  greeted  him  kindly.  He 
looked  up  from  his  work,  thanked  her,  and  a  few  minutes 
later,  when  she  came  out  of  the  cave  again,  asked  her,  "  How 
is  the  poor  little  creature?" 

Sirona  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  said,  sadly,  "  She  has 
drunk  nothing,  and  does  not  even  know  me,  and  pants  as 
rapidly  as  last  evening.  If  I  were  to  lose  the  poor  little  beast — " 

She  could  say  no  more  for  emotion,  but  Paulus  shook  hie 
head. 

"  It  is  sinful,"  he  said,  "  to  grieve  so  for  a  beast  devoid  of 


reason." 


"  lambe  is  not  devoid  of  reason,"  replied  Sirona.  "  And 
even  if  she  were,  what  have  I  left  if  she  dies?  She  grew  up  in 
my  father's  house,  where  all  loved  me;  I  had  her  first  M'hen 
she  was  only  a  few  days  old,  and  I  brought  her  up  on  milk  on 
a  little  bit  of  sponge.  Many  a  time  when  I  heard  the  little 
thing  whining  for  food,  have  I  got  out  of  bed  at  night  with 
bare  feet;  and  so  she  came  to  cling  to  me  like  a  child,  and 
could  not  do  without  me.  No  one  can  know  how  another  feels 
about  such  things.  My  father  used  to  tell  us  of  a  spider  that 
beautified  the  life  of  a  prison,  and  what  is  a  dirty  dumb  creat- 
ure like  that  to  my  clever,  graceful  little  dog !  I  have  lost  my 
home,  and  here  every  one  believes  the  worst  of  me,  although 
I  have  done  no  one  any  harm,  and  no  one — no  one  loves  me 
but  lambe." 

"  But  I  know  of  one  who  loves  every  one  with  a  divine  and 
equal  love,"  interrupted  Paulus. 

"  I  do  not  care  for  such  a  one,"  answered  Sirona.  "  lambe 
follows  no  one  but  me;  what  good  can  a  love  do  me  that  I 
must  share  with  all  the  world!  But  you  mean,  the  crucified 
God  of  the  Christians?  He  is  good  and  pitiful,  so  says  Dame 
Dorothea;  but  He  is  dead — I  can  not  see  Him,  nor  hear  Him, 
and,  certainly,  I  can  not  long  for  one  who  only  shows  me 
grace.  I  want  one  to  whom  I  can  count  for  something,  and 
to  whose  life  and  happiness  I  am  indispensable. " 

A  scarcely  perceptible  shudder  thrilled  through  the  Alexan- 
drian as  she  spoke  these  words,  and  he  thought,  as  he  glanced 
at  her  face  and  figure  with  a  mnigled  expression  of  regret  and 
admiration,  "  Satan,  before  he  fell,  was  the  fairest  among  the 
pure  spirits,  and  he  still  has  power  over  this  woman.  She  is 
still  far  from  being  ripe  for  salvation,  and  yet  she  has  a  gentle 
heart,  and  even  if  she  has  erred  she  is  not  lost." 

Sirona's  eyes  had  met  his,  and  she  said  with  a  sigh,  "  You 


140  HOMO    SUM. 

look  at  me  so  compassionately — if  only  lambe  were  well,  and 
if  I  succeeded  in  reaching  Alexandria,  my  destiny  would  pcr- 
iiai)S  take  a  turn  for  the  better. " 

Paulus  had  risen  while  she  spoke,  and  had  taken  the  pot 
from  the  hearth;  he  now  offered  it  to  his  guest,  saying: 

"  For  the  present  we  will  trust  to  this  broth  to  compensate 
you  for  the  delights  of  the  capital;  I  am  glad  that  you 
relish  it.  But  tell  me  now,  have  you  seriously  considered  wha* 
danger  may  threaten  a  beautiful,  young,  and  unprotected 
woman  in  the  wicked  city  of  the  Greeks?  Would  it  not  bo 
better  that  you  should  submit  to  the  consequences  of  your 
guilt,  and  return  to  Phcebicius,  to  whom,  unfortunately,  you 
belong?" 

Sirona,  at  these  words,  had  set  down  the  vessel  out  of  which 
she  was  eating,  and  rising  in  passionate  haste,  she  exclaimed: 

"  That  shall  never,  never  be!  And  when  I  was  sitting  up 
there  half  dead,  and  took  your  step  for  that  of  Phoebicius,  the 
gods  showed  me  a  way  to  escape  from  him,  and  from  you  or 
any  one  who  would  drag  me  back  to  him.  When  I  fled  to  the 
edge  of  the  abyss  I  was  raving  and  crazed,  but  what  I  then 
would  have  done  in  my  madness  I  would  do  now  in  cold  blood 
— as  surely  as  I  hope  to  see  my  own  people  in  Arelas  once 
more!  What  was  I  once,  and  to  what  have  I  come  through 
Phoebicius!  Life  was  to  me  a  sunny  garden  with  golden  trel- 
lises and  shady  trees,  and  waters  as  bright  as  crystal,  with  rosy 
flowers  and  singing  birds;  and  he — he  has  darkened  its  light, 
and  fouled  its  springs,  and  broken  down  its  flowers.  All  now 
seems  dumb  and  colorless,  and  if  the  abyss  is  my  grave,  no 
one  will  miss  me  nor  mourn  for  me. " 

"  Poor  woman!"  said  Paulus.  "  Your  husband  then  showed 
you  very  little  love. " 

"  Love,"  laughed  Sirona,  "  Phoebicius  and  love!  Only 
yesterday  I  told  you  how  cruelly  he  used  to  torture  me  after 
his  feasts,  when  he  was  drunk  or  when  he  recovered  from  one 
of  his  swoons.  But  one  thing  he  did  to  me,  one  thing  which 
broke  the  last  thread  of  a  tie  between  us.  No  one  yet  has 
ever  heard  a  word  of  it  from  me;  not  even  Dorothea,  who 
ofteiT  blamed  me  when  I  let  slip  a  hard  word  against  my  hus- 
band. It  was  well  for  her  to  talk — if  I  had  found  a  husband 
like  Petrus  I  might  perhaps  have  been  like  Dorothea.  It  is  a 
marvel,  which  I  myself  do  not  understand,  that  I  did  not  grow 
wicked  with  such  a  man,  a  man  who — why  should  I  conceal 
it? — who,  when  we  were  at  Rome,  because  he  was  in  debt,  an(J 
because  he  hoped  to  get  promotion  through  his  legate  Quintil- 
lus,  sold  me — me — to  him.     He  himself  brought  the  old  mai? 


HOMO   SUM.  141 

— ^Who  had  often  followed  me  about — into  his  house,  but  our 
hostess,  a  good  woman,  had  overheard  the  matter,  and  be- 
trayed it  all  to  me.  It  is  so  base,  so  vUe — it  seems  to  blacken 
my  soul  only  to  think  of  it!  The  legate  got  httle  enough  in 
return  for  his  sesterces,  but  Phoebicius  did  not  restore  his 
wages  of  sin,  and  his  rage  against  me  knew  no  bounds  when 
he  was  transferred  to  the  oasis  at  the  instigation  of  his  betrayed 
chief.  Now  you  know  all;  and  never  advise  me  again  to  re- 
turn to  that  man  to  whom  my  misfortune  has  bound  me. 
Only  listen  how  the  poor  little  beast  in  there  is  whining. 
It  wants  to  come  to  me,  and  has  not  the  strength  to  move.'' 

Paulus  looked  after  her  sympathetically  as  she  disappeared 
under  the  opening  in  the  rock,  and  he  awaited  her  return  with 
folded  arms.  He  could  not  see  into  the  cave,  for  the  space  in 
which  the  bed  stood  was  closed  at  the  end  by  the  narrow  pass- 
age which  formed  the  entrance,  and  which  joined  it  at  an 
angle,  as  the  handle  of  a  scythe  joins  the  blade.  She  remained 
a  long  time,  and  he  could  hear  now  and  then  a  tender  word  with 
which  she  tried  to  comfort  the  suffering  creature.  Suddenly 
he  was  startled  by  a  loud  and  bitter  cry  from  Sirona;  no 
doubt  the  poor  woman's  affectionate  little  companion  was 
dead,  and  in  the  dim  twilight  of  the  cave  she  had  seen  its 
dulled  eye,  and  felt  the  stiffness  of  death  overspreading  and 
paralyzing  its  slender  limbs.  He  dared  not  go  into  the  cavern, 
but  he  felt  his  eyes  fill  with  tears,  and  he  would,  willingly  have 
spoken  some  word  of  consolation  to  her. 

At  last  she  came  out,  her  eyes  red  with  weeping.  Paulus 
had  guessed  rightly,  for  she  held  the  body  of  little  lambe  in 
her  arms. 

"  How  sorry  I  am,"  said  Paulus;  "  the  poor  little  creature 
was  so  pretty. " 

Sirona  nodded,  sat  down,  and  unfastened  the  prettily  em- 
broidered band  from  the  dog's  neck,  saying,  half  to  herself 
and  half  to  Paulus: 

"  My  little  Agnes  worked  this  collar.  I  myself  had  taught 
her  to  sew,  and  this  was  the  first  piece  of  work  that  was  all 
her  own."  She  held  the  collar  up  to  the  anchorite.  "This 
clasp  is  of  real  silver,"  she  went  on,  "  and  my  father  himself 
gave  it  to  me.  He  was  fond  of  the  poor  little  dog,  too.  Now 
it  wUl  never  leap  and  spring  again,  poor  thing. " 

She  looked  sadly  down  at  the  dead  dog.  Then  she  collected 
herself,  and  said,  hurriedly: 

"  Now  I  will  go  away  from  here.  Nothing — nothing  keeps 
me  any  longer  in  this  wilderness,  for  the  senator's  house,  where 
I  have  spent  many  hapjiy  hours,  and  where  every  one  was  fond 


142  HOMO    SUM. 

of  me,  is  closed  against  me,  and  must  ever  be  so  long  as  he 
lives  there.  If  you  have  not  been  kind  to  me  only  to  do  me 
harm  in  the  end,  let  me  go  to-day,  and  help  me  to  reach 
Alexandria. " 

"  Not  to-day,  in  any  case  not  to-day,"  replied  Paulus. 
"  First  I  must  find  out  when  a  vessel  sails  for  Klysma  or  for 
Berenike,  and  then  I  have  many  other  things  to  see  to  for 
you.  You  owe  me  an  answer  to  my  question  as  to  what  you 
expect  to  do  and  to  find  in  Alexandria.  Poor  child — the 
younger  and  the  fairer  you  are — " 

"  I  know  all  you  would  say  to  me,"  interrupted  Sirona. 
"  Wherever  I  have  been  I  have  attracted  the  eyes  of  men,  and 
vrhen  I  have  read  in  their  looks  that  I  pleased  them  it  has 
greatly  pleased  me — why  should  I  deny  it?  Many  a  one  has 
spoken  fair  words  to  me  or  given  me  flowers,  and  sent  old 
women  to  my  house  to  win  me  for  them;  but  even  if  one  hag 
happened  to  please  me  better  than  another,  still  I  have  never 
found  it  hard  to  send  them  home  again  as  was  fitting." 

"Till  Hermas  laid  his  love  at  your  feet,*'  said  Paulus. 
"  He  is  a  bold  lad—" 

"  A  pretty,  inexperienced  boy,"  said  Sirona,  "  neither  more 
nor  less.  It  was  a  heedless  thing,  no  doubt,  to  admit  him  to 
my  rooms,  but  no  Vestal  need  be  ashamed  to  own  to  such 
favor  as  I  showed  him.  I  am  innocent,  and  I  will  remain  so, 
that  I  may  stand  in  my  father's  presence  without  a  blush 
when  I  have  earned  money  enough  in  the  capital  for  the  long 
journey. " 

Paulus  looked  in  her  face  astonished  and  almost  horrified. 

Then  he  had  in  fact  taken  on  himself  guilt  which  did  not 
exist,  and  perhaps  the  senator  would  have  been  slower  to  con- 
demn Sirona  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  falsely  acknowledging 
it.  He  stood  before  her,  feeling  like  a  child  that  would  fain 
put  together  some  object  of  artistic  workmanship,  and  who 
has  broken  it  to  pieces  for  want  of  skill.  At  the  same  time 
he  could  not  doubt  a  word  that  she  said,  for  the  voice  within 
him  had  long  since  plainly  told  him  that  this  woman  was  no 
common  criminal. 

I\)r  some  time  he  was  at  a  loss  for  words;  at  last  he  said, 
timidly: 

"  What  do  you  propose  doing  in  Alexandria?" 

"  Polykarp  says  that  all  good  work  finds  a  purchaser 
there,"  she  answered.  "And  lean  weave  particularly  well, 
and  embroider  with  gold  thread.  Perhaps  I  may  find  shelter 
under  some  roof  where  there  are  children,  and  I  woiUd  willing- 
ly attend  to  them  during  the  day.     In  my  free  time  and  at 


HOMO    SUM.  143 

night  I  could  work  at  my  frame,  and  when  I  have  scraped 
enough  together  I  shall  soon  find  a  ship  that  will  carry  me  to 
Gaul,  to  my  own  people.  Do  you  not  see  that  I  can  not  go 
back  to  Phoebicius,  and  can  you  help  me?" 

"  Most  willingly,  and  better  perhaps  than  you  fancy,"  said 
Paulus.  "  I  can  not  explain  this  to  you  just  now;  but  you 
need  not  request  me,  but  may  rather  feel  that  you  have  a 
good  right  to  demand  of  me  that  I  should  rescue  you." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprised  inquiry,  and  he  continued: 

"  First  let  me  carry  away  the  little  dog,  and  bury  it  down 
there.  I  will  put  a  stone  over  the  grave,  that  you  may  know 
where  it  lies.  It  must  be  so;  the  body  can  not  lie  here  any 
longer.  Take  the  thing,  which  lies  there.  I  had  tried  before 
to  cut  it  out  for  you,  for  you  complained  yesterday  that  your 
hair  was  all  in  a  tangle  because  you  had  not  a  comb,  so  I  tried 
to  carve  you  one  out  of  bone.  There  were  none  at  the  shop  in 
the  oasis,  and  I  am  myself  only  a  wild  creature  of  the  wilder- 
ness, a  sorry,  foolish  animal,  and  do  not  use  one.  Was  that  a 
stone  that  fell?  Ay,  certainly,  I  hear  a  man's  step;  go  quick- 
ly into  the  cave  and  do  not  stir  till  I  call  you." 

Sirona  withdrew  into  her  rock  dwelling,  and  Paulus  took 
the  body  of  the  dog  in  his  arms  to  conceal  it  from  the  man 
who  was  approaching.  He  looked  round,  undecided,  and 
seeking  a  hiding  place  for  it,  but  two  sharp  eyes  had  already 
detected  him  and  his  small  burden  from  the  height  above  him; 
before  he  had  found  a  suitable  place  stones  were  rolling  and 
crashing  down  from  the  cliff  to  the  right  of  the  cavern,  and  at 
the  same  time  a  man  came  springing  down  with  rash  boldness 
from  rock  to  rock,  and  without  heeding  the  warning  voice  of 
the  anchorite,  flung  himself  down  the  slope,  straight  in  front 
of  him,  exclaiming,  while  he  struggled  for  breath  and  his  face 
was  hot  with  hatred  and  excitement: 

"  That — I  know  it  well — that  is  Sirona's  greyhound — where 
is  its  mistress?  Tell  me  this  instant,  where  is  Sirona — I  must 
and  will  know. " 

Paulus  had  frequently  seen,  from'  the  penitent's  room  in  the 
church,  the  senator  and  his  family  in  their  places  near  the 
altar,  and  he  was  much  astonished  to  recognize  in  the  daring 
leaper,  who  rushed  upon  him  like  a  mad  man  with  disheveled 
hair  and  fiery  eyes,  Polykarp,  Petrus's  second  son. 

The  anchorite  found  it  difficult  to  preserve  his  calm  and 
composed  demeanor,  for  since  he  had  been  aware  that  he  had 
accused  Sirona  falsely  of  a  heavy  sin,  while  at  the  same  time 
he  had  equally  falsely  confessed  himself  the  jjartner  of  her 
misdeed,  he  felt  an  anxiety  that  amounted  to  anguish,  and  a 


144  HOMO    SUM. 

leaden  oppression  checked  the  rapidity  of  his  thoughts.  Ho 
at  first  stammered  out  a  few  unintelligible  words,  but  his  op- 
ponent was  in  fearful  earnest  with  his  question;  he  seized  the 
collar  of  the  anchorite's  coarse  garment  with  terrible  violence, 
and  cried,  in  a  husky  voice:  "  Where  did  you  find  the  dog? 
Where  is — " 

Bat  suddenly  he  let  go  his  hold  of  the  Alexandrian,  looked 
at  him  from  head  to  foot,  and  said,  softly  and  slowly: 

"  Can  it  be  possible?    Are  you  Paul  us,  the  Alexandrian?" 

The  anchorite  nodded  .assent.  Polykarp  laughed  loud  and 
bitterly,  pressed  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  and  exclaimed,  in  a 
tone  of  the  deepest  disgust  and  contempt: 

"  And  is  it  so,  indeed!  and  such  a  repulsive  ape,  too!  But 
I  will  not  believe  that  she  ever  held  out  a  hand  to  you,  for  the 
mere  sight  of  you  makes  me  dirty." 

Paulus  felt  his  heart  beating  like  a  hammer  within  his 
breast,  and  there  was  a  singing  and  roaring  in  his  ears.  When 
once  more  Polykarp  threatened  him  with  his  fist  he  involuntar- 
ily took  the  posture  of  an  athlete  in  a  westling  match,  he 
stretched  out  his  arms  to  try  to  get  a  good  hold  of  his  adver- 
sary, and  said,  in  a  hollow,  deep  tone  of  angry  warning: 
"  Stand  back,  or  something  will  happen  to  you  that  will  not 
be  good  for  your  bones. "  The  speaker  was  indeed  Paulus, 
and  yet  not  Paulus;  it  was  Menander,  the  pride  of  the  Palaes- 
tra, who  had  never  let  pass  a  word  of  his  comrades  that  did 
not  altogether  please  him.  And  yet  yesterday  in  the  oasis  he 
had  quietly  submitted  to  far  worse  insults  than  Polykarp  had 
offered  him,  and  accepted  them  with  contented  cheerfulness. 
Whence  then  to-day  this  wild  sensitiveness  and  eager  desire  to 
fight? 

When,  two  days  since,  he  had  gone  to  his  old  cave  to  fetch 
the  last  of  his  hidden  gold  pieces,  he  had  wished  to  greet  old 
8tephanus,  but  the  Egyptian  attendant  had  scared  him  off  hke 
an  ev^il  spirit  with  angry  curses,  and  had  thrown  stones  after 
him.  In  the  oasis  he  had  attempted  to  enter  the  church,  in 
spite  of  the  bishop's  prohibition,  there  to  put  up  a  prayer;  for 
he  thought  that  the  antechamber,  where  the  spring  was  and 
in  which  penitents  were  wont  to  tarry,  would  certainly  not  be 
closed  even  to  him;  but  the  acolytes  had  driven  him  away  with 
abusive  words,  and  the  doorkeeper,  who  a  short  time  since  had 
trusted  him  with  the  key,  spitted  in  his  face,  and  yet  he  had  not 
found  it  difficult  to  turn  his  back  on  his  persecutors  without 
anger  or  complaint. 

At  the  counter  of  the  dealer  of  whom  he  had  bought  the 
Woolen  coverlet,   the  little  jug,  and  many  other  things  for 


HOMO    SUM.  345 

Sirona,  a  priest  had  passed  by,  had  pointed  to  his  money,  and 
bad  said: 

"  Satan  takes  care  of  his  own." 

Paulus  had  answered  him  nothing,  had  returned  to  his 
charge  with  an  uplifted  and  grateful  heart,  and  had  heartily 
rejoiced  once  more  in  the  exalted  and  encouraging  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  enduring  disgrace  and  suffering  for  another 
n  humble  imitation  of  Christ.  What  was  it,  then,  that  made 
him  so  acutely  sensitive  with  regard  to  Polykarp,  and  once 
more  snapped  those  threads,  which  long  years  of  self-denial 
had  twined  into  fetters  for  his  impatient  spirit?  Was  it  that 
to  the  man  who  mortified  his  flesh  in  order  to  free  his  soul 
from  its  bonds  it  seemed  a  lighter  matter  to  be  contemned  as 
a  sinner,  hated  of  God,  than  to  let  his  person  and  his  manly 
dignity  be  treated  with  contempt?  Was  he  thinking  of  the 
fair  Ustener  in  the  cave,  who  was  a  witness  to  his  humiliation? 
Had  his  wrath  blazed  up  because  he  saw  in  Polykarp,  not  so 
much  an  exasperated  fellow-believer,  as  merely  a  man  who 
with  bold  scorn  had  put  himself  in  the  path  of  another  man? 

The  lad  and  the  gray-bearded  athlete  stood  face  to  face  like 
mortal  enemies  ready  for  the  fight,  and  Polykarp  did  not 
waver,  although  he,  like  most  Christian  youths,  had  been  for- 
bidden to  take  part  in  the  wrestling-games  in  the  Palaestra, 
and  though  he  knew  that  he  had  to  deal  with  a  strong  and 
practiced  antagonist.  He  himself  was  indeed  no  weakling, 
and  his  stormy  indignation  added  to  his  desire  to  measure  him- 
self against  the  hated  seducer. 

"  Come  on — come  on!"  he  cried,  his  eyes  flashing,  and 
leaning  forward  with  his  neck  outstretched  and  ready  on  his 
part  for  the  struggle,  "  Grip  hold!  you  were  a  gladiator,  or 
something  of  that  kind,  before  you  put  on  that  filthy  dress 
that  you  might  break  into  houses  at  night,  and  go  unpunished. 
Make  this  sacred  spot  an  arena,  and  if  you  succeed  in 
making  an  end  of  me  I  will  thank  you,  for  what  made  life 
worth  having  to  me  you  have  already  ruined,  whether  or  no. 
Only  come  on.  Or  perhaps  you  think  it  easier  to  ruin  the  life 
of  a  Avoman  than  to  measure  your  strength  against  her  de- 
fender?    Clutch  hold,  I  say,  clutch  hold,  or — '* 

"  Or  you  will  fall  upon  me,"  said  Paulus,  whose  arms  had 
dropped  by  his  side  during  the  youth's  address.  He  spoke  in 
a  quite  altered  tone  of  indifference.  "  Throw  yourself  upon 
me,  and  do  with  me  what  you  will;  I  will  not  prevent  you. 
Here  I  shall  stand,  and  I  will  not  fight,  for  you  have  so  far  hit 
*he  truth — this  holy  place  is  not  an  aretia.     But  the  Gaulish 


HG  HOMO    SUM. 

Iiidy  belongs  neither  to  you  Jior  to  me,  and  wlio  gives  you  a 

jum — 

"  Who  gives  me  a  right  over  her?"  interrupted  Polykarp, 
stepiiing  close  up  to  liis  qiiestiojier  Avith  sparkling  eyes.  "  lie 
who  j)erniits  the  vorsliij)er  to  speak  of  ///.s-  (Jod.  Sirona  is 
mine,  as  the  sun,  and  moon,  and  stars  are  mine,  bo(;ause  liiey 
shed  a  beautiful  light  on  my  murky  path.  My  life  is  mino — 
and  she  was  the  life  of  my  life,  and  therefore  1  say  boldly,  and 
would  say  if  there  were  twenty  such  as  Phoibicius  here,  she 
belongs  to  me.  And  because  I  regarded  her  as  my  own,  and 
so  regard  her  still,  1  hate  you  and  Jliiig  my  scoi-n  in  your  teeth 
— you  are  like  a  hungry  sheej)  that  has  got  into  the  gardener's 
ilower-bed,  and  stolen  from  the  stem  the  Avonderful,  lovely 
ilower  that  he  has  nurtured  with  care,  and  that  only  blooms 
onee  in  a  hundred  years — like  a  cat  that  has  sneaked  iuto  some 
marble  hall,  and  that  to  satisfy  its  greed  has  strangled  some 
rare  and  splendid  bird  that  a  traveler  has  brought  from  a  dis« 
tant  land.  ]?ut  you,  you  hyiiocritical  robber,  who  disregard 
your  own  body  with  beastly  jn-ide  and  sacrifice  it  to  low  brutal- 
ity, what  should  you  know  of  the  magic  charm  of  beauty — of 
that  daughter  of  heaven,  that  can  toudi  even  thoughtless  chil- 
dren, and  before  whom  the  gods  themselves  do  homage!  T 
have  a  right  to  8irona;  for  hide  her  where  you  will — or  even  if 
the  centurion  were  to  find  her  and  to  fetter  her  lo  himsell* 
with  chains  and  rivets  and  brass — still  that  which  makes  her 
the  noblest  work  of  the  Most  High — the  imnge  of  her  beauty 
— lives  in  no  one,  in  no  one  as  it  lives  in  me.  This  hand  has 
never  even  touched  your  victim,  and  yet  (iod  has  given  Sirona 
to  no  man  as  he  has  given  her  wholly  to  nu',  for  to  no  man  can 
she  be  what  she  is  to  me,  and  no  nuin  can  love  her  as  1  dol 
She  has  the  nature  of  an  angel  and  the  heart  of  a  child;  she  is 
without  sjiot,  and  as  jnire  as  the  diamond,  or  the  swan's  breast, 
or  the  morning-dew  in  the  bosom  of  a  rose.  And  though  she 
has  let  you  into  her  house  a  thousand  times,  anil  though  my 
father  eve?i,  an<l  my  own  mother,  and  every  one — every  one 
])ointed  at  her  atid  condejuned  her,  I  would  never  cease  to  be- 
lieve in  her  jjurity.  It  is  you  who  have  brought  her  to  shame; 
it  is  you — " 

"  I  kept  silence  while  all  condemned  her,"  said  Paulus,  with 
warmth,  "  for  I  believed  that  she  was  guilty,  just  as  you  be- 
lieve that  I  am.  just  as  every  one  that  is  bound  by  no  ties  of 
Jove  is  more  ready  to  believe  evil  than  good.  Now  I  know,  ay, 
know  for  certain,  that  we  did  the  ])oor  woman  an  injustice. 
]f  the  splendor  of  the  lovely  ilream  that  you  call  ISiroiui  luw 
been  'oluudcd  by  uiy  fault — " 


BOW   SUM.  147 

"  Cloudecl?  And  by  you?'"  liiiighccl  Polykarp.  "  Can  the 
toad  that  phinges  into  ilio  sea  uloud  its  sliining  bhie?  can  the 
black  bat  that  flits  across  the  n  ight  cloud  the  pure  light  of  the 
full  moon?" 

An  (wnolion  of  rago  agjiin  sIk)I,  lliroiigli  tlio  aiirJiorite's 
li'.iart,  1)iit  lie  was  by  this  l.inic.  on  his  giianl  against,  hiiiiHcIf, 
Hiid  he  only  said,  bitterly,,  and  with  hardly  won  coniiiosiu'e: 

"  And  how  was  it,  then,  with  the  llower  and  with  the  birtl 
that  were  destroyed  by  beasts  without  understanding?  I  fancy 
you  meant  no  absent  third  person  by  that  beast,  and  yet  now 
you  declare  that  it  is  nob  within  my  power  even  to  throw  a 
shadow  over  your  day-star!  Yon  see  you  contradict  yourself  in 
your  anger,  and  the  son  of  a  wise  man,  who  himself  has  not 
long  since  lel't  the  school  of  rhetoric,  should  try  to  avoid  that. 
You  might  regard  me  with  less  hostility,  for  1  will  not  olTend 
you;  nay,  I  will  repay  your  evil  words  with  good — ])erha])s  the 
very  best  indeed  that  you  ever  heard  in  j'our  life.  Sirona  is  a 
■worthy  and  iiniocent  woman,  and  at  the  time  when  Pho'bicius 
came  out  to  seek  her,  I  had  never  even  set  eyes  1121011  her  nor 
had  my  ears  ever  heard  a  Avord  ])ass  her  lips.^^ 

At  tliese  words  Polykarji's  threateiung  nnmncr  changed,  and 
feeling  at  once  incapable  of  understandhig  the  matter,  and 
anxious  to  believe,  he  eagerly  exclaimed: 

"  But  yet  the  sheep-skin  was  yours,  and  you  let  yourself  bo 
thrashed  by  Phcebicius  without  defending  yourself." 

"  So  filthy  an  ape,"  said  Panlus,  imitating  Polykarji's  voice, 
"  needs  many  blows,  and  that  day  I  could  nf)t  venture  to  de- 
fend nn'self  because — because —  ]>ut  that  is  no  conccni  of 
yours.  You  must  subdue  your  curiosit3-foi  a  few  da3's  longer, 
and  then  it  may  easily  happen  that  the  man  whose  very  aspect 
jnakes  you  feel  dirty — the  bat,  the  toad — " 

*'  Let  that  jiass  now,"  said  Polykarp.  "  I'erhaps  the  excite- 
ment which  the  sight  of  you  stirred  uji  in  my  bruised  and 
■wounded  heart  led  mo  to  use  unseemly  language.  Xow,  in- 
deed, I  sec  that  your  matted  hair  sits  round  a  well-featured 
countenance.  Forgive  my  violent  and  unjust  attack.  I  wa.s 
beside  myself,  and  I  opened  my  whole  soul  to  you,  and  now 
that  you  know  how  it  is  with  me,  once  more  I  ask  you,  where 
is  Siromi?" 

I'olykarp  looked  Paulus  in  the  face  with  anxious  and  urgent 
(mtreaty,  j)ointing  to  the  dog,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You  must 
know,  for  here  is  the  evidence." 

The  Alexandrian  hesitated  to  answer:  he  Lrlanced  bv  chance 
at  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  and  seeing  the  gleam  of  Su-ona's 
white  robe  behind  the  palm-brauches,  he  said  to  liimself   tha*- 


148  HOMO     5UM. 

if  Polykarp  lingered  much  loiigor  he  coiUd  not  fail  to  discovoi? 
lior — a.consummiition  to  be  avoided. 

There  were  many  resisons  which  might  have  made  him  re- 
solve to  stand  in  the  way  of  n  meeting  between  the  lady  and 
the  yonng  man,  but  not  oiu^  of  thi'm  occurred  to  him,  and 
though  he  did  not  even  dre;im  that  ;i  feeling  akin  to  jealousy 
had  begun  to  influence  him,  still  he  was  conscious  that  it  waa 
his  lively  repugnance  to  seeing  the  two  sink  into  each  other's 
arms  before  his  very  eyes  that  jjrompted  him  to  turn  shortly 
round,  to  take  up  the  body  of  the  little  dog,  and  to  say  to  the 
inquirer: 

"It  is  true,  I  do  know  where  she  is  hiding,  and  when  the 
time  comes  you  shall  know  it  too.  Now  I  must  bury  the  ani- 
mal, and  if  you  will  you  can  help  me." 

Without  waiting  for  any  objection  on  Polykarji's  part,  he 
hurried  from  stone  to  stone  up  to  the  ])lateau  on  the  precii)i- 
tous  edge  of  which  he  had  first  seen  Sirona.  The  younger  man 
followed  him  breathlessly,  and  only  joined  him  when  he  liiitl 
alreiKly  begun  to  dig  '  ut  the  earth  with  his  hands  at  the  foot 
of  a  cliff.  Polykarj)  was  now  standing  close  to  the  anchorite, 
and  rc2>cated  his  (Question  with  vehement  eagerJiess,  but  I'aulus 
did  not  look  up  from  his  work,  and  only  said,  digging  faster 
and  faster: 

"  Come  to  this  ])laoe  again  to-morrow,  and  then  it  nuiy  per- 
haps be  possible  that  I  should  tell  you." 

"  You  think  to  put  me  off  with  that,"  cried  the  lad.  "  Then 
you  are  mistaken  in  me,  and  if  you  cheat  me  with  your  honest- 
sotmding  words  I  will — " 

IJut  he  did  not  end  his  threat,  for  a  clear,  longing  cry  dis- 
tiiictly  broko  the  silence  of  the  desertad  mountain. 

*'  Polykarp — PolykarpI"  It  sounded  nearer  and  Jiearer, 
aTul  the  words  hud  a  uuigic  ell'ect  on  him  for  whose  ear  they 
were  inteniled. 

With  his  liead  (^rect,  and  trembling  in  every  limb,  the  yoinig 
nuin  listened  eiigerlv.  Then  he  cried  out,  "  It  is  her  voice!  1 
am  coming,  t^irona,  I  am  coming."  And  without  paying  any 
heed  to  the  auchorite,  he  was  on  the  i)oint  of  hurrying  olV  to 
nu!et  her.  lint  Paulus  placed  himself  closely  in  front  of  him, 
and  saiil,  sternly: 

*'  You  stay  here." 

"  Out    of    my   way,"  shouted    Polykarp,  beside    himself. 

"  She  is  calling  to  me  out  of  tlin  hok-  where  you  are  keeping 

her — you  slanderer — you  cowardly  liarl     Out  of  the  way  1  say! 

'  You  will  not?     Then  defend  yourself,  you  hideous  totul,  or  J 


HOMO    SUM.  149 

will  trciul  yoii  down,  if  my  foot  does  not  fear  to  be  soiled  with 
your  i3oit;on. " 

Up  to  this  momont  Paul  us  had  stood  before  the  young  man 
with  outspread  arms,  motionless,  but  immovable  as  an  oak- 
tree;  now  Polykarp  first  hit  him.  1'his  blow  shattered  the 
jinchorite's  patience,  and,  no  longer  master  of  himself,  lie  ex- 
claimed: "  You  shall  answer  to  me  for  this,"  and  before  a 
third  and  fourth  call  haci  come  from  8irona's  lips,  he  had 
grasped  the  artist's  slender  boily,  and  with  a  mighty  swing  lie 
ilunghim  backward  over  his  own  broad  and  ^Dowerful  shoulders 
on  to  the  stony  gi'ound. 

After  this  mad  act  he  stood  over  his  victim  with  outstretched 
legs,  folded  arms,  and  rolling  eyes,  as  if  rooted  to  the  earth. 
He  waited  till  Polykarjj  had  picked  himscilf  up,  and,  without 
lookiiig  round,  but  pressing  his  hands  to  the  back  of  his  head, 
had  tottered  away  like  a  drunken  man. 

Paulus  looked  after  him  till  he  disappeared  over  the  cliff  at 
the  edge  of  the  level  ground ;  but  he  did  not  see  how  Polykarp 
fell  senseless  to  the  ground  with  a  stifled  cry,  not  far  from  the 
very  spring  whence  his  enemy  had  fetched  the  water  to  refresh 
Sirona's  parched  lips. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  She  will  attract  the  attention  of  Damianus  or  Salathicl  or 
one  of  the  others  up  there,"  thought  Paulus,  as  he  heard 
Sii'ona's  call  once  more,  and,  following  her  voice,  he  went 
hastily  and  excitedly  down  the  mountain  side. 

"  We  shall  have  peace  for  to-day  at  any  rate  from  that 
audacious  fellow,"  muttered  he  to  himself,  "  and  perhaps  to- 
morrow too,  for  his  blue  bruises  will  be  a  greeting  from  me. 
But  how  diflicult  it  is  to  forget  what  we  have  once  known! 
'Hie  grip  with  Avhich  I  flung  him,  I  learned — how  long  ago? — 
from  the  chief  gymnast  at  Deli)hi.  My  marrow  is  not  yet 
quite  dried  up,  and  that  I  Avill  prove  to  the  boy  with  these  fists, 
if  he  comes  back  with  three  or  four  of  the  same  mettle." 

But  Paulus  had  not  long  to  indulge  in  such  wild  thoughts, 
for  on  the  Avay  to  the  cave  ho  met  8irona. 

"  Where  is  I'olykarp?"  slie  called  out  from  afar. 

"  I  hav(!  .s(!nt  hiru  horric,"  lie  an.swen;d. 

"  And  he  olnyed  you?"  slu^  asked  again. 

"  I  gave  him  striking  reasons  lor  doing  so,"  he  replied, 
quickly. 

^*  But  ho  wHl  return?" 


150  HOMO    SUM. 

"  He  has  learned  enough  up  here  for  to-day.  "We  have  now 
to  think  of  your  journey  to  Alexandria." 

"But  it  seems  to  me/' replied  Sirona,  blushing,  "that  I 
am  safely  hidden  in  your  cave,  and  just  now  you  yourself 
said — " 

"  I  warned  you  against  the  dangers  of  the  expedition,"  in- 
ternipted  Paul  us.  "  But  since  then  it  has  occurred  to  me  that 
I  know  of  a  shelter  and  of  a  safe  protector  for  you.  There, 
we  are  at  home  again.  Now  go  into  the  cave,  for  very  proba- 
bly some  one  may  have  heard  you  calling,  and  if  other  anchor- 
ites were  to  discover  you  here  they  would  compel  me  to  take 
you  back  to  your  husband." 

"I  will  go  directly, '' sighed  Sirona,  "  but  first  explain  to 
me — for  I  heard  all  that  you  said  to  each  other  " — and  she 
colored — "  how  it  happened  that  Phoebicius  took  Hermas's 
sheep-skin  for  yours,  and  why  you  let  him  beat  you  without 
giving  any  explanation?" 

"  Because  my  back  is  even  broader  than  that  great  fellow's," 
replied  the  Alexandrian,  quickly.  "  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it 
in  some  quiet  hour,  perhaps  on  our  journey  to  Klysma.  Now 
go  into  the  cave,  or  you  may  spoil  everything.  I  know,  too, 
what  you  lack  most  since  you  heard  the  fair  words  of  the  sena- 
tor's son." 

"  Well— what?"  asked  Sirona. 

"  A  mirror!"  laughed  Paulus. 

"  ITow  much  you  are  mistaken!"  said  Sirona;  and  she 
thought  to  herself:  "  The  woman  that  Polykarp  looks  at  as 
he  does  at  me  does  not  need  a  mirror." 

An  old  Jewish  merchant  lived  in  the  fishing-town  on  the 
western  declivity  of  tlie  mountain;  he  shipped  the  charcoal  for 
Egypt,  which  was  made  in  the  valleys  of  the  peninsula  by 
burning  the  sajal  acacia,  and  he  had  formerly  supplied  fuel  for 
the  drying-room  of  the  papyrus  factory  of  Paulus's  father. 
He  now  had  a  business  connection  with  has  brother,  and  Paulus 
himself  had  had  dealings  with  him.  He  was  prudent  and 
wealthy,  and  whenever  he  met  the  anchorite  he  blamed  him 
for  his  flight  from  the  world,  and  implored  him  to  put  his  hos- 
pitality to  the  test,  and  to  command  his  resources  and  means 
as  if  they  were  his  own. 

This  man  was  now  to  find  a  boat,  and  to  provide  the  means 
of  flight  for  Sirona.  The  longer  Paulus  thought  it  over  the 
more  indispensable  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  should  himself  ac- 
company the  Gaulish  lady  to  Alexandria,  and  in  his  own  per- 
son find  her  a  safe  shelter.     He  knew  that  he  was  free  to  ditir 


HOMO    SUM.  151 

pose  of  his  brother's  enormous  fortune — lialf  of  which  in  fact 
was  his — as  though  it  were  all  his  own,  and  he  began  to  rejoice 
in  his  possessions  for  the  first  time  for  many  years.  Soon  he 
wus  occupied  in  thinking  of  the  furnishing  of  the  house  which 
h«  intended  to  assign  to  the  fair  Sirona.  At  first  he  thought 
of  a  simple  citizen's  dwelling,  but  by  degrees  he  began  to  pict- 
lu-e  the  house  intended  for  her  as  fitted  with  shining  geld;  • 
white  and  colored  marble,  many-colored  Syrian  carpets,  nay, 
even  with  vain  works  of  the  heathen,  with  statues,  and  a  lux 
urious  bath.  In  increasing  unrest  he  wandered  from  rock  to 
rock,  and  many  times  as  he  went  up  and  down  he  paused  in 
front  of  the  cave  where  Sirona  was.  Once  he  saw  her  light 
robe,  and  its  conspicuous  gleam  led  him  to  the  reflection  that 
it  would  be  imprudent  to  conduct  her  to  the  humble  fishing- 
village  in  that  dress.  If  he  meant  to  conceal  her  traces  from 
the  search  of  Phcebicius  and  Polykarp,  he  must  first  provide 
her  with  a  simple  dress,  and  a  veil  that  should  hide  her  shining 
hair  and  fair  face,  which  even  in  the  capital  could  find  no 
match. 

The  Amalekite,  from  whom  he  had  twice  bought  some  goat's 
milk  for  her,  lived  in  a  hut  which  Paulus  could  easily  reach. 
He  still  possessed  a  few  drachmas,  and  with  these  he  could 
purchase  what  he  needed  from  the  wife  and  daughter  of  the 
goat-herd.  Although  the  sky  was  now  covered  with  mist  and 
a  hot  sweltering  south  wind  had  risen,  he  prepared  to  start  at 
once.  The  sun  was  no  longer  visible,  though  its  scorching  heat 
could  be  felt,  but  Paulus  paid  no  heed  to  this  sign  of  an  ap- 
proaching storm. 

Hastily,  and  with  so  little  attention  that  he  confused  one 
object  with  another  in  the  little  store-cellar,  he  laid  some 
bread,  a  knife,  and  some  dates  in  front  of  the  entrance  to  the 
cave,  called  out  to  his  guest  that  he  should  soon  return,  and 
hurried  at  a  rapid  pace  up  the  mountain. 

Sirona  answered  him  with  a  gentle  word  of  farewell,  and 
did  net  even  look  round  after  him,  for  she  was  glad  to  be 
alone,  and  so  soon  as  the  sound  of  his  step  had  died  away  she 
gave  herself  up  once  more  to  the  overwhelming  torrent  of  new 
and  deep  feelings  which  had  flooded  her  soul  ever  since  she  had 
heard  Polykarp's  ardent  hymn  of  love. 

Paulus,  in  the  last  few  hours,  was  Menander  again,  but  the 
lonely  woman  in  the  cavern — the  cause  of  this  transformation 
—the  wife  of  Phcebicius,  had  undergone  an  even  greater  change 
than  he.     She  was  still  Sirona,  and  yet  not  Sirona. 

When  the  anchorite  had  commanded  her  to  retire  into  the 
CRve  she  had  obeyed  him  willingly,  nay,  she  would  have  with- 


163  HOMO    SUM. 

d.-awn  even  without  his  desire,  and  have  sought  for  solitude; 
for  she  felt  that  something  mighty,  hitherto  unknown  to  her, 
and  incomprehensible  even  to  herself,  was  passing  in  her  soill, 
and  that  a  nameless  but  potent  something  had  grown  up  in 
her  heart,  had  struggled  free,  and  had  found  hfe  and  motion ; 
a  something  that  was  strange  and  yet  precious  to  her,  fright- 
ening and  yet  sweet — a  pain,  and  yet  unspeakably  delightiul. 
An  emotion  such  as  she  had  never  before  known  had  mastered 
her,  and  she  felt,  since  hearing  Polykarp's  speech,  as  if  a  new 
and  purer  blood  was  flowing  rapidly  through  her  veins.  Every 
nerve  quivered  like  the  leaves  of  the  poplars  in  her  former 
home  when  the  wind  blows  down  to  meet  the  Rhone,  and  she 
found  it  difficult  to  follow  what  Paulus  said,  and  still  more  so 
to  find  the  right  answer  to  his  questions. 

As  soon  as  she  was  alone  she  sat  down  on  her  bed,  rested  her 
elbows  on  her  knees  and  her  head  in  her  hand,  and  the  grow- 
ing and  surging  flood  of  her  passion  broke  out  in  an  abundant 
stream  of  warm  tears. 

She  had  never  wept  so  before;  no  anguish,  no  bitterness  was 
infused  into  the  sweet  refreshing  dew  of  those  tears.  Fair 
flowers  of  never  dreamed  of  splendor  and  beauty  blossomed  in 
the  heart  of  the  weeping  woman,  and  when  at  length  her  tears 
ceased  there  was  a  great  silence,  but  also  a  great  glory  within 
her  and  around  her.  She  was  like  a  man  who  has  grown  up 
in  an  under-ground  room,  where  no  light  of  day  can  ever  shine, 
and  who  at  last  is  allowed  to  look  at  the  blue  heavens,  at  the 
splendor  of  the  sun,  at  the  myriad  flowers  and  leaves  in  the 
green  woods  and  on  the  meadows. 

She  was  wretched,  and  yet  a  happy  woman. 

"  That  is  love!"  were  the  words  that  her  heart  sung  in  tri- 
umph, and  as  her  memory  looked  back  on  the  admirers  who 
had  approached  her  in  Arelas  when  she  was  still  little  more 
than  a  child,  and  afterward  in  Rome,  with  tender  words  and 
looks,  they  all  appeared  like«  phantom  forms  carrying  feeble 
tapers,  whose  light  paled  pitifully,  for  Polykarp  had  now  come 
on  the  scene,  bearing  the  very  sun  itself  in  his  hands. 

"  They — and  he,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  and  she  beheld 
8S  it  were  a  balance,  and  on  one  of  the  scales  lay  the  homage 
which  in  her  vain  fancy  she  had  so  coveted.  It  was  of  no  more 
weight  than  chaff,  and  its  whole  mass  was  like  a  heap  of  straw, 
which  flew  up  as  soon  as  Polykarp  laid  his  love — a  hundred- 
Wght  of  pure  gold — in  the  other  scale. 

"  And  if  all  Ihe  nations  and  kings  of  the  earth  brought  their 
treasures  together,"  thought  she,  "  and  laid  them  at  my  feet, 
•ifeey  could  not  make  me  as  rich  as  he  has  made  me;  and  if  aU 


HOMO    SUM.  153 

the  stars  were  fused  into  one,  the  vast  globe  of  light  which  they 
would  form  could  not  shine  so  brightly  as  the  joy  that  fills  my 
soul.  Come  now  what  may,  I  will  never  complain  after  that 
hour  of  delight.*' 

Then  she  thought  over  each  of  her  former  meetings  with 
Polykarp,  and  remembered  that  he  had  never  spoken  to  her  of 
love.  What  must  it  not  have  cost  him  to  control  himself  thus; 
and  a  great  triumphant  joy  filled  her  heart  at  the  thought  that 
she  was  pure,  and  not  unworthy  of  him,  and  an  unutterable 
sense  of  gratitude  rose  up  in  her  soul.  The  love  she  bore  this 
man  seemed  to  take  wings,  and  it  spread  itself  over  the  com- 
mon life  and  aspect  of  the  world,  and  rose  to  a  spirit  of  devo- 
tion. With  a  deep  sigh  she  raised  her  eyes  and  hands  to 
heaven,  and  in  her  longing  to  prove  her  love  to  every  living 
being,  nay,  to  every  created  thing,  her  spirit  sought  the  mighty 
and  beneficent  Power  to  whom  she  owed  such  exalted  happi- 
ness. 

In  her  youth  her  father  had  kept  her  very  strictly,  but  still 
he  had  allowed  her  to  go  through  the  streets  of  the  town  with 
her  young  companions,  wreathed  with  flowers,  and  all  dressed 
in  their  best,  in  the  procession  of  maidens  at  the  feast  of  Venus 
of  Arelas,  to  whom  all  the  women  of  her  native  town  were 
wont  to  turn  with  prayers  and  sacrifices  when  their  hearts  were 
touched  by  love. 

Now  she  tried  to  pray  to  Venus,  but  again  and  again  the 
wanton  jests  of  the  men  who  were  used  to  accompany  the 
maidens  came  into  her  mind,  and  memories  of  how  she  herself 
had  eagerly  listened  for  the  only  too  frequent  cries  of  admira- 
tion, and  had  enticed  the  silent  with  a  glance,  or  thanked  the 
more  clamorous  with  a  smUe.  To-day  certainly  she  had  no 
mind  for  such  sport,  and  she  recollected  the  stern  words  which 
had  fallen  from  Dorothea's  lips  on  the  worship  of  Venus,  when 
she  had  once  told  her  how  well  the  natives  of  Arelas  knew  how 
to  keep  their  feasts. 

And  Polykarp,  whose  heart  was  nevertheless  so  full  of  love, 
he  no  doubt  thought  like  his  mother,  and  she  pictured  him  as 
she  had  frequently  seen  him  following  his  parents  by  the  side 
of  his  sister  Marthana — often  hand  in  hand  with  her — as  they 
went  to  church.  The  senator's  son  had  always  had  a  kindly 
glance  for  her,  excepting  when  he  was  one  of  this  procession  to 
the  temple  of  the  God  of  whom  they  said  that  He  was  love 
itself,  and  whose  votaries  indeed  were  not  poor  in  love;  for  in 
Petrus's  house,  if  anywhere,  all  hearts  were  united  by  a  tender 
affection.  It  then  occurred  to  her  that  Paulus  had  just  now 
advised  her  to  turn  to  the  crucified  God  of  the  Christians,  who 


164  HOMO    SUM. 

was  full  of  an  equal  and  divine  love  to  all  men.  To  him  Poly- 
karp  also  prayed — was  praying  perhaps  at  this  very  hour;  and 
if  she  now  did  the  same  her  prayers  would  ascend  together  with 
his,  and  so  she  might  be  in  some  sort  one  with  that  beloved 
friend,  from  whom  everything  else  conspired  to  part  her. 

She  knelt  down  and  folded  her  hands,  as  she  had  so  often 
seen  Christians  do,  and  she  reflected  on  the  torments  that  the 
poor  Man  who  hung  with  pierced  hands  on  the  cross  had  so 
meekly  endured,  though  He  suffered  innocently;  she  felt  the 
deepest  pity  for  Him,  and  softly  said  to  herself,  as  she  raised 
her  eyes  to  the  low  roof  of  her  cave  dwelling: 

"  Thou  poor  good  Son  of  God,  Thou  knowest  what  it  is 
■when  all  men  condemn  us  unjustly,  and  surely  Thou  canst 
understand  when  I  say  to  Thee  how  sore  my  heart  is!  And 
they  say,  too,  that  of  all  hearts  Thine  is  the  most  loving,  and 
so  Thou  wilt  know  how  it  is  that,  in  spite  of  all  my  misery,  it 
still  seems  to  me  that  I  am  a  happy  woman.  The  very  breath 
of  a  God  must  be  rapture,  and  that  Thou  must  have  learned 
when  they  tortured  and  mocked  Thee,  for  Thou  hast  suffered 
out  of  love.  They  say  that  Thou  wast  wholly  pure  and  per- 
fectly sinless.  Now  I — I  have  committed  many  follies,  but 
not  a  sin — a  real  sin — no,  indeed,  I  have  not;  and  Thou  must 
know  it,  for  Thou  art  a  God,  and  knowest  the  past,  and  canst 
read  hearts.  And,  indeed,  I  also  would  fain  remain  innocent, 
and  yet  how  can  that  be  when  I  can  not  help  being  devoted  to 
Polykarp,  and  yet  I  am  another  man's  wife.  But  am  I  indeed 
the  true  and  lawful  wife  of  that  horrible  wretch  who  sold  me 
to  another?  He  is  as  far  from  my  heart — as  far  as  if  I  had 
never  seen  him  with  these  eyes.  And  yet,  believe  me,  I  wish 
him  no  ill,  and  I  will  be  quite  content  if  only  I  need  never  go 
back  to  him. 

"  When  I  was  a  child  I  was  afraid  of  frogs;  my  brothers 
and  sisters  knew  it,  and  once  my  brother  Licinius  laid  a  large 
one,  that  he  had  caught,  on  'my  bare  neck.  I  started,  and 
shuddered,  and  screamed  out  loud,  for  it  was  so  hideously  cold 
and  damp — I  can  not  express  it.  And  that  is  exactly  how  I 
have  always  felt  since  those  days  in  Rome  whenever  Phoebicius 
touched  me,  and  yet  I  dared  not  scream  when  he  did. 

"But  Polykarp!  oh!  would  that  he  were  here,  and  might 
only  grasp  ray  hand.  He  said  I  was  his  own,  and  yet  I  have  never 
encouraged  him.  But  now!  if  a  danger  threatened  him  or  a 
sorrow,  and  if  by  any  means  I  could  save  him  from  it,  indeed 
— indeed — though  I  never  could  bear  pain  well,  and  am  afraid 
of  death,  I  would  let  them  nail  me  to  a  cross  for  him^  as  Thou 
was  crucified  for  us  ^U- 


HOilO    SUM  155 

"  But  then  he  must  know  that  I  had  died  for  him,  and  if  he 
looked  into  my  dying  eyes  with  his  strange,  deep  gaze,  I  would 
tell  him  that  it  is  to  him  that  I  owe  a  love  so  great  that  it  is  a 
thing  altogether  different  and  higher  than  any  love  I  have  ever 
before  seen.  And  a  feeling  that  is  so  far  above  all  measure  of 
what  ordinary  mortals  experience,  it  seems  to  me,  must  be 
divine.  Can  such  love  be  wrong?  I  know  not;  but  Thou 
knowest,  and  Thou,  whom  they  name  the  good  Shepherd,  lead 
Thou  us — each  apart  from  the  other,  if  it  be  best  so  for  him — 
but  yet,  if  it  be  possible,  unite  us  ouce  more,  if  it  be  only  for 
one  single  hour.  If  only  he  could  know  that  I  am  not  wicked, 
and  that  poor  Sirona  would  willingly  belong  to  him,  and  to  no 
other,  then  I  would  be  ready  to  die.  Oh,  Thou  good,  kind 
Shepherd,  take  me  into  Thy  flock,  and  guide  me." 

Thus  prayed  Sirona,  and  before  her  fancy  there  floated  the 
image  of  a  lovely  and  loving  youthful  form;  she  had  seen  the 
origmal  in  the  model  for  Polykarp's  noble  work,  and  she  had 
not  forgotten  the  exquisite  details  of  the  face.  It  seemed  to 
her  as  well-known  and  familiar  as  if  she  had  known — what  in 
fact  she  could  not  even  guess — that  she  herself  had  had  some 
share  in  the  success  of  the  work. 

The  love  which  unites  two  hearts  is  like  the  ocean  of  Homer, 
which  encircles  both  halves  of  the  earth.  It  flows  and  rolls 
on.  Where  shall  we  seek  its  source — here  or  there — who  can 
tell? 

It  was  Dame  Dorothea  who  in  her  motherly  pride  liad  led 
the  Gaulish  lady  into  her  son's  workshop.  Sirona  thought  of 
her  and  her  husband  and  her  house,  where  over  the  door  a 
motto  was  carved  in  the  stone  which  she  had  seen  every  morn- 
ing from  her  sleeping-room.  She  could  not  read  Greek,  but 
Polykarp's  sister,  Marthana,  had  more  than  once  told  her  what 
it  meant.  "  Commit  thy  ways  to  the  Lord,  and  put  thy  trust 
in  Him,"  ran  the  inscription,  and  she  repeated  it  to  herself 
again  and  again,  and  then  drew  fancy  pictures  of  the  future  in 
smiling  day-dreams,  which  by  degrees  assumed  sharjDcr  outlines 
and  brighter  colors. 

She  saw  herself  United  to  Polykarp,  and  as  the  daughter  of 
Petrus  and  Dorothea,  at  home  in  the  senator's  house;  she  had 
a  right  now  to  the  children  who  loved  her,  and  who  were  so 
dear  to  her;  she  helped  the  deaconess  in  all  her  labors,  and 
won  praise  and  looks  of  approval.  She  had  learned  to  use  her 
hands  in  her  father's  house,  and  now  she  could  show  what  she 
could  do;  Polykarp  even  gazed  at  her  with  surprise  and  admira- 
tion, and  said  that  she  was  as  clever  as  she  was  beautiful,  and 
promised  to  become  a  second  Dorothea.     She  went  with  him 


156  HOMO    SUM. 

into  his  workshop,  and  there  arranged  all  the  things  that  lay 
about  in  confusion,  and  dusted  it,  while  he  followed  her  every 
movement  with  his  gaze,  and  at  last  stood  before  her,  his  arms 
wide — wide  open  to  clasp  her. 

She  started,  and  pressed  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  and  flung 
herself  loving  and  beloved  on  his  breast,  and  would  have 
thrown  her  arms  round  his  neck,  while  her  hot  tears  flowed — 
but  the  sweet  vision  was  suddenly  shattered,  for  a  swift  flasL 
of  light  pierced  the  gloom  of  the  cavern,  and  immediately  after 
she  heard  the  heavy  roll  of  the  thunder-clap,  dulled  by  the 
rocky  walls  of  her  dwelling. 

Completely  recalled  to  actuality,  she  listened  for  a  moment, 
and  then  stepped  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave.  It  was  already 
dusk,  and  heavy  rain  drops  were  falling  from  the  dark  clouds 
which  seemed  to  shroud  the  mountain  peaks  in  a  vast  veil 
of  black  crape.  Paulus  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  but  there 
stood  the  food  he  had  prepared  for  her.  She  had  eaten  nothing 
since  her  breakfast,  and  she  now  tried  to  drink  the  milk,  but 
it  had  curdled  and  was  not  fit  to  use;  a  small  bit  of  bread 
and  a  few  dates  quite  satisfied  her. 

As  the  lightning  and  thunder  began  to  follow  each  other 
more  and  more  quickly,  and  the  darkness  fast  grew  deeper,  a 
great  fear  fell  upon  her;  she  pushed  the  food  on  one  side,  and 
looked  up  to  the  mountaiji  where  the  peaks  were  now  wholly 
veiled  in  night,  now  seemed  afloat  in  a  sea  of  flame,  and  more 
distinctly  visible  than  by  dayh'ght.  Again  and  again  a  forked 
flash  like  a  saw-blade  of  fire  cut  through  the  black  curtain  of 
cloud  with  terrific  swiftness,  again  and  again  the  thunder 
sounded  like  a  blast  of  trumpets  through  the  silent  wilderness, 
and  multiplied  itself,  clattering,  growling,  roaring,  and  echoing 
from  rock  to  rock.  Light  and  sound  at  last  seemed  to  be 
hurled  from  heaven  together,  and  the  very  rock  in  which 
her  cave  was  formed  quaked. 

Crushed  and  trembling,  she  arew  back  into  the  inmost  depth 
of  her  rocky  chamber,  starting  at  each  flash  that  illumined  the 
darkness. 

At  length  they  occurred  at  longer  intervals,  the  thunder  lost 
its  appalling  fury,  and  as  the  wind  drove  the  storm  further 
and  further  to  the  southward,  at  last  it  wholly  died  away. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

It  was  quite  dark  in  Sirona's  cavern,  fearfully  dark,  and  the 
blacker  grew  the  night  which  shrouded  her,  the  more  her  ter- 
ror increased.     From  time  to  time  she  shut  her  eyes  as  tightly 


HOMO   SUM.  157 

as  she  could,  for  she  fancied  she  could  see  a  crimson  glare,  and 
she  longed  for  light  in  that  hour  as  a  drowning  man  longs  for 
the  shore.     Dark  forebodings  of  every  kind  oppressed  her  soul. 

What  if  Paulus  had  abandoiud  her,  and  had  left  her  to  her 
fate?  Or  if  Polykarp  should  have  been  searching  for  her  on 
the  mountain  in  this  storm,  and  in  the  darkness  should  have 
fallen  into  some  abyss,  or  have  been  struck  by  the  lightning? 
Supposing  the  mass  of  rock  that  overhung  the  entrance  to  the 
cave  should  have  been  loosened  in  the  storm,  and  should  fall 
and  bar  her  exit  to  the  open  air?  Then  she  would  be  buried 
alive,  and  she  must  perish  alone,  without  seeing  him  whom  she 
loved  once  more,  or  telling  him  that  she  had  not  been  un- 
worthy of  his  trust  in  her. 

Cruelly  tormented  by  such  thoughts  as  these,  she  dragged 
herself  up  and  felt  her  way  out  into  the  air  and  wind,  for  she 
could  no  longer  hold  out  in  the  gloomy  soUtude  and  fearful 
darkness.  She  had  hardly  reached  the  mouth  of  the  cave 
when  she  heard  steps  approaching  her  lurking  place,  and  again 
she  shrunk  back.  Who  was  it  that  could  venture  in  this 
pitch-dark  night  to  climb  from  rock  to  rock?  Was  it  Paulus 
returning?    Was  it  he — was  it  Polykarp  seeking  her? 

She  felt  intoxicated;  she  pressed  her  hands  to  her  heart  and 
longed  to  cry  out,  but  she  dared  not,  and  her  tongue  refused 
its  office.  She  listened  with  the  tension  of  terror  to  the  sound 
of  the  steps  which  came  straight  toward  her  nearer  and  nearer, 
then  the  wanderer  perceived  the  faint  gleam  of  her  white  dress, 
and  called  out  to  her.     It  was  Paulus. 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief  when  she  recognized  his 
voice,  and  answered  his  call. 

"  In  such  weather  as  this,"  said  the  anchorite,  "  it  is  better 
to  be  within  than  without,  it  seems  to  me,  for  it  is  not  par- 
ticularly pleasant  out  here,  so  far  as  I  have  found." 

"  But  it  has  been  frightful  here  inside  the  cave,  too,"  Sirona 
answered;  "  I  have  been  so  dreadfully  frightened — I  was  so 
lonely  in  the  horrible  darkness.  If  only  I  had  had  my  little 
dog  with  me,  it  would  at  least  have  been  a  living  being." 

'  I  have  made  haste  as  well  as  I  could,"  interrupted  Paulus. 
"  The  paths  are  not  so  smooth  here  as  the  Kanopic  road  in  Alex- 
andria, and  as  I  have  not  three  necks  like  Cerberus,  who  lies 
at  the  feet  of  Serapis,  it  would  have  been  wiser  of  me  to  re- 
turn to  you  a  little  more  leisurely.  The  storm-bird  has  swal- 
lowed up  all  the  stars  as  if  they  were  flies,  and  the  poor  old 
mountain  is  so  grieved  at  it  that  streams  of  tears  are  every- 
where flowing  over  his  stony  cheeks.  It  is  wet  even  here. 
Now  go  back  into  the  cave,  and  let  me  lay  this  that  I  have  got 


168  HOMO   SUM. 

here  for  you  in  my  arms  in  the  dry  passage.  I  hrlng  you 
good  news;  to-morrow  evening,  when  it  is  growing  dusk,  we 
start.  I  have  fomid  out  a  vessel  which  will  convey  us  to 
Klysma,  and  from  thence  I  myself  will  conduct  you  to  Alexan- 
dria. In  the  sheep-skin  here  you  will  find  the  dress  and  veil 
of  an  Amalekite  woman,  and  if  your  traces  are  to  be  kept  hid- 
den from  Phoebicius  you  must  accommodate  yourself  to  this 
disguise;  for  if  the  people  down  there  were  to  see  you  as  I  saw 
you  to-day,  they  would  think  that  Aphrodite  herself  had  risen 
from  the  sea,  and  the  report  of  the  fair-haired  beauty  that  had 
appeared  among  them  would  soon  spread  even  to  the  oasis. " 

''  But  it  seems  to  me  that  I  am  well  hidden  here,"  replied 
Sirona.  "  I  am  afraid  of  a  sea-voyage,  and  even  if  we  succeed 
in  reaching  Alexandria  without  impediment,  still  I  do  not 
know — " 

"  It  shall  be  my  business  to  provide  for  you  there,"  Paulus 
interrupted,  with  a  decision  that  was  almost  boastful,  and  that 
somewhat  disturbed  Sirona.  "  You  know  the  fable  of  the  ass 
in  the  lion's  skin,  but  there  are  lions  who  wear  the  skin  of  an 
ass  on  their  shoulders — or  of  a  sheep;  it  comes  to  the  same 
thing.  Yesterday  you  were  speaking  of  the  splendid  palaces 
of  the  citizens,  and  lauding  the  happiness  of  their  owners. 
Y'"ou  shall  dwell  in  one  of  those  marble  houses,  and  rule  it  as 
its  mistress,  and  it  shall  be  my  care  to  procure  you  slaves,  and 
litter-bearers,  and  a  carriage  with  four  mules.  Do  not  doubt 
my  word,  for  1  am  promising  nothing  that  I  can  not  perform. 
The  rain  is  ceasing,  and  I  will  try  to  light  a  fire.  You  want 
nothing  more  to  eat?  Well,  then,  I  will  wish  you  good-night. 
The  rest  will  all  do  to-morrow." 

Sirona  had  listened  in  astonishment  to  the  anchorite's  prom- 
ises. 

How  often  had  she  envied  those  who  possessed  all  that  her 
strange  protector  now  promised  her — and  now  it  had  not  the 
smallest  charm  for  her;  and,  fully  determined  in  any  case  not 
to  follow  Paulus,  whom  she  began  to  distrust,  she  replied,  as 
she  coldly  returned  his  greeting,  "  There  are  many  hours  yet 
before  to-morrow  evening  in  which  we  can  discuss  everything. " 

While  Paulus  was  with  difficulty  rekindling  the  fire,  she  was 
once  more  alone,  and  again  she  began  to  be  alarmed  in  the 
dark  cavern. 

She  called  the  Alexandrian.  "  The  darkness  terrifies  me 
so,"  she  said.  "  You  still  had  some  oil  in  the  jug  this  morn- 
ing; perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  contrive  a  little  lamp  for  me; 
it  is  so  fearful  to  stay  here  in  the  dark." 

Paulus  at  once  took  a  shard,  tore  a  strip  from  his  tattered 


HOMO    SUM.  159 

coat,  twisted  it  together,  and  laid  it  for  a  wick  in  the  greasy 
fluid,  lighted  it  ut  the  slowly  reviving  fire,  and  putting  this 
more  than  simple  light  in  Sirona's  hand,  he  said: 

"  It  will  serve  its  purpose;  in  Alexandria  I  will  see  that  you 
have  lamps  which  give  more  light,  and  which  are  made  by  a 
better  artist. " 

Sirona  placed  the  lamp  in  a  hollow  in  the  rocky  wall  at  the 
head  of  her  bed,  and  then  lay  down  to  rest. 

Light  scares  away  wild  beasts  and  fear,  too,  from  the  resting- 
place  of  man,  and  it  kept  terrifying  thoughts  far  away  from 
the  Gaulish  woman. 

She  contemplated  her  situation  clearly  and  calmly,  and  quite 
decided  that  she  could  neither  quit  the  cave  nor  intrust  her- 
self to  the  anchorite  till  she  had  once  more  seen  and  spoken  tq 
Polykarp.  He  no  doubt  knew  where  to  seek  her,  and  certain^ 
ly,  she  thought,  he  would  by  this  time  have  returned,  if  the 
storm  and  the  starless  night  had  not  rendered  it  an  impossibility 
to  come  up  the  mountain  from  the  oasis. 

"  To-morrow  I  shall  see  him  again,  and  then  I  will  open  my 
heart  to  him,  and  he  shall  read  my  soul  like  a  book,  and  on 
every  page  and  in  every  lijie  he  will  find  his  own  name.  And 
I  will  tell  him,  too,  that  I  have  prayed  to  his  '  Good  Shepherd,' 
and  how  much  good  it  has  done  me,  and  that  I  will  be  a  Chris- 
tian like  his  sister  Marthana  and  his  mother.  Dorothea  will 
be  glad  indeed  when  she  hears  it,  and  she  at  any  rate  can  not 
have  thought  that  I  was  wicked,  for  she  always  loved  me,  and 
the  children — the  children — " 

The  bright  crowd  of  merry  faces  came  smiling  in  upon  her 
fancy," and  her  thoughts  passed  insensibly  into  dreams;  kindly 
sleep  touched  her  heart  with  its  gentle  hand,  and  its  breath 
swept  every  shadow  of  trouble  from  her  soul.  She  slept, 
smiling  and  untroubled  as  a  child  whose  eyes  some  guardian 
angel  softly  kisses,  while  her  strange  protector  now  turned  the 
flickering  wood  on  the  damp  hearth,  and  .with  a  reddening  face 
blew  up  the  dying  charcoal  fire,  and  again  walked  restlessly  up 
and  down,  and  paused  each  time  he  passed  the  entrance  to  the 
cave  to  throw  a  longing  glance  at  the  light  which  shone  out 
from  Sirona's  sleeping-room. 

Since  the  moment  when  he  had  flung  Polykarp  to  the 
ground,  Paul  us  had  not  succeeded  in  recovering  his  self-com- 
mand; not  for  a  moment  had  he  regretted  the  deed,  for  the 
reflection  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  a  fall  on  the  stony 
soil  of  the  Sacred  Mountain,  which  was  as  hard  as  iron,  must 
hurt  more  than  a  fall  on  the  sand  of  the  arena. 

"  The  impudent  fellow,"  thought  he,  "  richly  deserved  what 


160  HOMO    SUM. 

he  got."  Who  gave  him  a  better  right  over  Siroria  than  he, 
Paulus  himself,  had — he  who  had  saved  her  hfe,  and  had  taken 
it  upon  himself  to  protect  her? 

Her  great  beauty  had  charmed  him  from  the  first  moment 
of  their  meeting,  but  no  impure  thought  stirred  his  heart  as  he 
gazed  at  her  with  delight,  and  listened  with  emotion  to  her 
child-like  talk.  It  was  the  hot  torrent  of  Polykarp's  words 
that  had  first  thrown  the  spark  into  his  soul,  which  jealousy 
and  the  dread  of  having  to  abandon  Sirona  to  another  had 
soon  fanned  into  a  consuming  flame.  He  would  not  give  up 
this  woman,  he  would  continue  to  care  for  her  every  need;  she 
should  owe  everything  to  him,  and  to  him  only.  And  so.  with- 
out reserve,  he  devoted  himself  body  and  soul  to  the  prepara- 
tions for  her  flight.  The  hot  breath  of  the  storm,  the  thunder 
and  lightning,  torrents  of  rain,  and  blackness  of  night  could 
not  delay  him,  while  he  leaped  from  rock  to  rock,  feeling  his 
way — soaked  through,  weary  and  in  peril;  he  thought  only  of 
her  and  of  how  he  could  most  safely  carry  her  to  Alexandria, 
and  then  surround  her  with  all  that  could  charm  a  woman's 
taste.  Nothing — nothing  did  he  desire  for  himself,  and  all 
that  he  dreamed  of  and  planned  turned  only  and  exclusively 
on  the  pleasure  which  he  might  afford  her.  When  he  had  pre- 
pared and  lighted  the  lamp  for  her  he  saw  her  again,  and  was 
startled  at  the  beauty  of  the  face  that  the  trembhng  flame  re- 
vealed. He  could  observe  her  a  few  seconds  only,  and  then 
she  had  vanished,  and  he  must  remain  alone  in  the  darkness 
and  the  rain.  He  walked  restlessly  up  and  down,  and  an 
agonizing  longing  once  more  to  see  her  face  lighted  up  by  the 
pale  flame,  and  the  white  arm  that  she  had  held  out  to  take 
the  lamp,  grew  more  and  more  strong  in  him  and  accelerated 
the  pulses  of  his  throbbing  heart.  As  often  as  he  passed  the 
cave,  and  observed  the  glimmer  of  light  that  came  from  her 
room,  he  felt  prompted  and  ,urged  to  slip  in  and  to  gaze  on 
her  once  more.  He  never  once  thought  of  prayer  and  scourg- 
ing, his  old  means  of  grace;  he  sought  rather  for  a  reason  that 
might  serve  him  as  an  excuse  if  he  went  in,  and  it  struck  him 
that  it  was  cold,  and  that  a  sheep-skin  was  lying  in  the  cavern. 
He  would  fetch  it,  in  spite  of  his  vow  never  to  wear  a  sheep- 
skin agahi;  and  supposing  he  were  thus  enabled  to  see  her, 
what  next? 

When  he  had  stepped  across  the  threshold  an  inward  voice 
warned  him  to  return,  and  told  him  that  he  must  be  treading 
the  path  of  unrighteousness,  for  that  he  was  stealing  in  on  tip- 
toe like  a  thief;  but  the  excuse  was  ready  at  once:  "  That  i» 
for  fear  of  waking  her,  if  she  is  asleep." 


HOMO  sum;  161 

And  now  all  further  reflection  was  silenced,  for  he  had  already 
reached  the  spot  where,  at  the  end  of  the  rocky  passage,  the 
cave  widened  into  her  sleeping-room;  there  she  lay  on  the  hard 
couch,  sunk  in  slumber  and  enchantingly  fair. 

A  deep  gloom  reigned  around,  and  the  feeble  light  of  the 
little  lamp  lighted  up  only  a  small  portion  of  the  dismal  cham- 
ber, but  the  head,  throat  and  arms  that  it  illuminated  seemed 
to  shine  with  a  hght  of  their  own  that  enhanced  and  consecrat- 
ed the  light  of  the  feeble  flame.  Paulus  fell  breathless  on  his 
knees  and  fixed  his  eyes  with  growing  eagerness  on  the  grace- 
ful form  of  the  sleeper. 

Sirona  was  dreaming;  her  head,  veiled  in  her  golden  hair, 
rested  on  a  high  pillow  of  herbs,  and  her  delicately  rosy  fat-e 
was  turned  up  to  the  vault  of  the  cave;  her  half -closed  lips 
moved  gently,  and  now  she  moved  her  bent  arm  and  her  white 
hand,  on  which  the  light  of  the  lamp  fell,  and  which  rested 
half  on  her  forehead  and  half  on  her  shining  hair. 

"  Is  she  saying  anything?"  asked  Paulus  of  himself,  as  he 
pressed  his  brow  against  a  projection  of  the  rock  as  tightly  as 
if  he  would  stem  the  rapid  rush  of  his  blood  that  it  might  not 
overwhelm  his  bewildered  brain. 

Again  she  moved  her  lips.  Had  she  indeed  spoken?  Had 
she  perhaps  called  him? 

That  could  not  be,  for  she  still  slept;  but  he  wished  to  be- 
lieve it — and  he  would  believe  it,  and  he  stole  nearer  to  her  and 
nearer,  and  bent  over  her,  and  listened — while  his  own  strength 
failed  him  even  to  draw  a  breath — listened  to  the  soft  regular 
breathing  that  heaved  her  bosom.  No  longer  master  of  him- 
self, he  touched  her  white  arm  with  his  bearded  lips  and  she 
drew  it  back  in  her  sleep,  then  his  gaze  fell  on  her  parted  lips 
and  the  pearly  teeth  that  shone  between  them,  and  a  mad 
longing  to  kiss  them  came  irresistibly  over  him.  He  bent 
trembling  over  her,  and  was  on  the  point  of  gratifying  his  im- 
pulse when,  as  if  startled  by  a  sudden  apparition,  he  drew 
back  and  raised  his  eyes  from  the  rosy  lips  to  the  hand  that 
rested  on  the  sleeper's  brow. 

The  lamp-light  played  on  a  golden  ring  on  Sirona's  finger, 
and  shone  brightly  on  an  onyx  on  which  was  engraved  an  image 
of  Tyche,  the  tutelary  goddess  of  Antioch,  with  a  sphere  upon 
her  head,  and  bearing  Amalthea's  horn  in  her  hand. 

A  new  and  strange  emotion  took  possession  of  the  anchorite 
at  the  sight  of  this  stone.  With  trembling  hands  he  felt  in  the 
breast  of  his  torn  garment,  and  presently  drew  forth  a  small 
iron  crucifix  and  the  ring  that  he  had  taken  from  the  cold  hand 
of  Hermas's  mother.     In  the  golden  circlet  was  set  an  onyx, 

6 


162  HOMO    SUIT. 

on  which  precisely  the  same  device  was  visible  as  that  on 
Sirona's  hand.  The  string  with  its  precious  jewel  fell  from  his 
grasp,  he  clutched  his  matted  hair  with  both  hands,  groaned 
deeply,  and  repeated  again  and  again,  as  though  to  crave  for- 
giveness, the  name  of  "  Magdalen." 

Then  he  called  Sirona  in  a  loud  voice,  and  as  she  awoke,  ex- 
cessively startled,  he  asked  her,  in  urgent  tones: 

"  Who  gave  you  that  ring?" 

"  It  was  a  present  from  Phoebicius,"  replied  she.  "  He  said 
he  had  had  it  given  to  him  many  years  since  in  Antioch,  and 
that  it  had  been  engraved  by  a  great  artist.  But  I  do  not  want 
it  any  more,  and  if  you  like  to  have  it  you  may." 

"Throw  it  away!"  exclaimed  Paulus;  "  it  will  bring  you 
nothing  but  misfortune."  Then  he  collected  himself,  went 
out  into  the  air  with  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast,  and  there, 
throwing  himself  down  on  the  wet  stones  by  the  hearth,  he 
cried  out:  "Magdalen!  dearest  and  purest!  You,  when  you 
ceased  to  be  Glycera,  became  a  saintly  martyr,  and  found  the 
road  to  heaven;  I,  too,  had  my  day  of  Damascus — of  revelation 
and  conversion — and  I  dared  to  call  myself  by  the  name  of 
Paulus — and  now — now?"  Plunged  in  despair  he  beat  his 
forehead,  groaning  out,  "  All,  all  in  vain!" 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

Common  natures  can  only  be  lightly  touched  by  the  immeas- 
urable depth  of  anguish  that  is  experienced  by  a  soul  that  de- 
spairs of  itself;  but  the  more  heavily  the  blow  of  such  suffer- 
ing falls,  the  more  surely  does  it  work  with  purifying  power  on 
him  who  has  to  taste  of  that  cup. 

Paulus  thought  no  more  of  the  fair,  sleeping  woman;  tort- 
ured by  acute  remorse,  he  lay  on  the  hard  stones,  feeling  that 
he  had  striven  in  vain.  When  he  had  taken  Hermas's  sin  and 
punishment  and  disgrace  upon  himself,  it  had  seemed  to  him 
that  he  was  treading  in  the  very  footsteps  of  the  Saviour.  And 
now? — He  felt  like  one  who,  while  running  for  a  prize,  stum- 
bles over  a  stone  and  grovels  in  the  sand  where  he  is  already 
close  to  the  goal. 

"  God  sees  the  will  and  not  the  deed,"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. "  What  I  did  wrong  with  regard  to  Sirona — or  what  I 
did  not  do — that  matters  not.  When  I  leaned  over  her  I  had 
fallen  utterly  and  entirely  into  the  power  of  the  Evil  One,  and 
was  an  ally  of  the  deadliest  enemy  of  Him  to  whom  I  had 
dedicated  my  life  and  soul.  Of  what  avail  was  my  flight  from 
the  world,  and  my  useless  sojourn  in  the  desert?    He  who 


HOMO    BUM.  163 

always  keeps  out  of  the  way  of  the  battle  can  easily  boast  of 
being  un conquered  to  the  end — but  is  he  therefore  a  hero? 
The  palm  belongs  to  him  who  in  the  midst  of  the  struggles 
and  affairs  of  the  world  clings  to  the  heavenward  road,  and 
never  lets  himseK  be  diverted  from  it;  but  as  for  me  who  walk 
here  alone,  a  woman  and  a  boy  cross  my  path,  and  one  threat- 
ens and  the  other  beckons  to  me,  and  I  forget  my  aim  and 
stumble  into  the  bog  of  iniquity.  And  so  I  can  not  6nd — no, 
here  I  can  not  find  what  I  strive  after.  But  how  then — how  ? 
Enlighten  me,  oh.  Lord,  and  reveal  to  me  what  I  must  do. " 

Thus  thinking  he  rose,  knelt  down,  and  prayed  fervently; 
when  at  last  he  came  to  the  "  Amen,^'  his  head  was  burning 
and  his  tongue  parched. 

The  clouds  had  parted,  though  they  still  hung  in  black 
masses  in  the  west;  from  time  to  time  gleams  of  lightning 
shoneluridly  on  the  horizon  and  lighted  up  the  jagged  peak  of 
mountain  with  a  flare;  the  moon  had  risen,  but  its  waning 
disk  was  frequently  obscured  by  dark  driving  masses  of  cloud; 
blinding  flashes,  tender  light,  and  utter  darkness  were  alternat- 
ing with  bewildering  rapidity,  when  Paulus  at  last  collected 
himseK  and  went  down  to  the  spring  to  drink  and  to  cool  his 
brow  in  the  fresh  water.  Striding  from  stone  to  stone,  he  told 
himself  that  ere  he  could  begin  a  new  life  he  must  do  penance 
• — some  heavy  penance;  but  what  was  it  to  be?  He  was  stand- 
ing at  the  very  margin  of  the  brook,  hemmed  in  by  cliffs, 
and  was  bending  down  to  it,  but  before  he  had  moistened  his 
lips  he  drew  back;  just  because  he  was  so  thirsty  he  resolved 
to  deny  himself  drink.  Hastily,  almost  vehemently,  he  turned 
his  back  on  the  spring,  and  after  this  little  victory  over  him- 
self his  storm-tossed  heart  seemed  a  little  calmer.  Far,  far 
from  hence  and  from  the  wilderness  and  from  the  Sacred 
Mountain  he  felt  impelled  to  fly,  and  he  would  gladly  have  fled 
then  and  there  to  a  distance.  Whither  should  he  flee?  It  was 
all  the  same,  for  he  was  in  search  of  suffering,  and  suffering, 
like  weeds,  grows  on  every  road.  And  from  whom?  This 
question  repeated  itself  again  and  again  as  if  he  had  shouted  it 
in  the  very  home  of  echo,  and  the  answer  was  not  hard  to  find : 
"  It  is  from  yourself  that  you  would  flee.  It  is  your  own  in- 
most self  that  is  your  enemy;  bury  yourself  in  what  desert  you 
will,  it  will  pursue  you,  and  it  would  be  easier  for  you  to  cut 
off  your  shadow  than  to  leave  that  behind." 

His  whole  consciousness  was  absorbed  by  this  sense  of  jm- 
3otency,  and  now,  after  the  stormy  excitement  of  the  last  few 
lours,  the  deepest  depression  took  possession  of  his  mind.  Ex- 
iftusted,  unstrimg,  full  of  loathing  of  himself  and  life,  he  sunk 


164  HOMO    SUM. 

down  on  a  stone  and  thought  over  the  occurrences  of  the  past 
few  days  with  perfect  impartiality. 

"Of  all  the  fools  that  I  ever  met,"  thought  he,  "  I  have 
gone  furthest  in  folly,  and  have  thereby  led  things  into  a  state 
of  confusion  which  I  myself  could  not  make  straight  again, 
even  if  I  were  a  sage — which  I  certainly  never  shall  be  any 
more  than  a  tortoise  or  a  phenix.  I  once  heard  tell  of  a  her- 
mit who,  because  it  is  written  that  we  ought  to  bury  the  dead, 
and  because  he  had  no  corpse,  slew  a  traveler  that  he  might 
fulfill  the  commandment;  1  have  acted  in  exactly  the  same 
way,  for,  in  order  to  spare  another  man  suffering,  and  to  bear 
the  sins  of  another,  I  have  plunged  an  innocent  woman  into 
misery  and  made  myself  indeed  a  sinner.  As  soon  as  it  is 
light  I  will  go  down  to  the  oasis  and  confess  to  Petrus  and 
Dorothea  what  I  have  done.  They  will  punish  me,  and  I  will 
honestly  help  them,  so  that  nothing  of  the  penance  that  they 
may  lay  upon  me  may  be  remitted.  The  less  mercy  I  show  to 
myself,  the  more  the  Eternal  Judge  will  show  to  me. " 

He  rose,  considered  the  position  of  the  stars,  and  when  he 
perceived  that  morning  was  not  far  off  he  prepared  to  return 
to  Sirona,  who  was  no  longer  any  more  to  him  than  an  un- 
happy woman  to  whom  he  owed  reparation  for  much  evil,  when 
a  loud  cry  of  distress  in  the  immediate  vicinity  fell  on  his  ear. 

He  mechanically  stooped  to  pick  up  a  stone  for  a  weapon, 
and  listened.  He  knew  every  rock  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
spring,  and  when  the  strange  groan  again  made  itself  heard 
he  knew  that  it  came  from  a  spot  which  he  knew  well  and 
where  he  had  often  rested,  because  a  large  flat  stone,  support- 
ed by  a  stout  pillar  of  granite,  stood  up  far  above  the  surround- 
ing rocks,  and  afforded  protection  from  the  sun,  even  at  noon- 
day, when  not  a  hand^s-breadth  of  shade  was  to  be  found 
elsewhere. 

Perhaps  some  wounded  beast  had  crept  under  the  rock  for 
shelter  from  the  rain.     Paulus  went  cautiously  forward.     The 

froaning  sounded  louder  and  more  distinct  than  before,  and 
eyond  a  doubt  it  was  the  voice  of  a  human  being. 
The  anchorite  hastily  threw  away  the  stone,  fell  upon  his 
knees,  and  soon  found  on  the  dry  spot  of  ground  under  the 
stone,  and  in  the  furthermost  nook  of  the  retreat,  a  motion- 
less human  form. 

"  It  is  most  likely  a  herdsman  that  has  been  struck  by  light- 
ning," thought  he,  as  he  felt  with  his  hands  the  curly  head  of 
the  sufferer,  and  the  strong  arms  that  now  hung  down  power- 
less. As  he  raised  the  injured  man,  who  still  uttered  low 
moans,  and  supported  his  head  on  his  broad  breast,  the  sweet 


HOMO    SUM.  165 

perfume  of  fine  ointment  was  wafted  to  him  from  his  hair,  and 
a  fearful  suspicion  dawned  upon  his  mind. 

"Polykarp!"  he  cried,  while  he  clasped  his  hands  more 
tightly  round  the  body  of  the  sufferer  who,  thus  called  upon, 
moved  and  muttered  a  few  intelligible  words  in  a  low  tone, 
but  stiU  much  too  clearly  for  Paulus,  for  he  now  knew  for  cer- 
tain that  he  had  guessed  rightly.  With  a  loud  cry  of  horror  he 
grasped  the  youth's  powerless  form,  raised  him  in  his  arms, 
and  carried  him  like  a  child  to  the  margin  of  the  spring  wheie 
he  laid  his  noble  burden  down  in  the  moist  grass;  Polykarp 
started  and  opened  his  eyes. 

Morning  was  already  dawning,  the  light  clouds  on  the  east- 
em  horizon  were  already  edged  with  rosy  fringes,  and  the  com- 
ing day  began  to  lift  the  dark  veil  from  the  forms  and  hues  of 
creation. 

The  young  man  recognized  the  anchorite,  who  with  trem- 
bling hands  was  washing  the  wound  at  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  his  eye  assumed  an  angry  glare  as  he  called  up  all  his  re- 
maining strength  and  pushed  his  attendant  from  him.  Paulus 
did  not  withdraw;  he  accepted  the  blow  from  his  victim  as  a 
gift  or  a  greeting,  thinking,  "  Ay,  and  I  only  wish  you  had  a 
dagger  in  your  hand;  I  would  not  resist  you." 

The  artist's  womid  was  frightfully  wide  and  deep,  but  the 
blood  had  flowed  among  his  thick  curls  and  had  clotted  over 
the  lacerated  veins  like  a  thick  dressing.  The  water  with 
which  Paulus  now  washed  his  head  reopened  them  and  re- 
newed the  bleeding,  and  after  the  one  powerful  effort  with 
which  Polykarp  pushed  away  his  enemy  he  fell  back  senseless 
in  his"  arms.  The  wan  morning  light  added  to  the  pallor  of 
the  bloodless  countenance  that  lay  with  glazed  eyes  in  the  an- 
chorite's lap. 

"He  is  dying!"  murmured  Paulus,  in  deadly  anguish  and 
with  choking  breath,  while  he  looked  across  the  valley  and  up 
to  the  heights,  seeking  help.  The  moimtain  rose  in  front  of 
him,  its  majestic  mass  glowing  in  the  rosy  dawn,  while  light 
translucent  vapor  floated  round  the  peak  where  the  Lord  had 
written  His  laws  for  His  chosen  people,  and  for  all  peoples,  on 
tables  of  stone;  it  seemed  to  Paulus  that  he  saw  the  giant  form 
of  Moses  far,  far  up  on  its  sublimest  height,  and  that  from  his 
lips  in  brazen  tones  the  strictest  of  all  the  commandments  was 
thundered  down  upon  him  with  awful  wrath,  "  Thou  shalt  not 
kill!" 

Paulus  clasped  his  hands  before  his  face  in  silent  despair, 
while  his  victim  still  lay  in  his  lap.  He  had  closed  his  eyes, 
for  he  dared  not  look  on  the  youth's  pale  countenance,  and  still 


166  HOMO    SUM. 

less  dared  he  look  up  at  the  mountain;  but  the  brazen  voice 
from  the  height  did  not  cease,  and  sounded  louder  and  louder; 
half  beside  himself  with  excitement,  in  his  inward  ear  he  heard 
it  still,  "  Thou  shalt  not  kill!"  and  then  again,  ''  Thou  shalt 
not  covet  thy  neighbor's  wife!'*  a  third  time,  "Thou  shalt 
not  commit  adultery!"  and  at  last  a  fourth,  "Thou  shalt 
have  none  other  gods  but  Me!" 

He  that  sins  against  one  of  those  laws  is  damned;  and  he — 
he  hiui  broken  them  all,  broken  them  while  striving  to  tread 
the  thorny  path  to  a  life  of  blessedness. 

Suddenly  and  wildly  he  threw  his  arms  up  to  heaven,  and 
sighing  deeply,  gazed  up  at  the  sacred  hill. 

What  was  that?  On  the  topmost  peak  of  Sinai,  whence  the 
Pharanite  sentinels  were  accustomed  to  watch  the  distance,  a 
handkerchief  was  waving  as  a  signal  that  the  enemy  were  ap- 
proaching. 

He  could  not  be  mistaken,  and  as  in  the  face  of  approaching 
danger  he  collected  himself  and  recovered  his  powers  of  thought 
and  deliberation,  his  ear  distinctly  caught  the  mighty  floods  of 
stirring  sound  that  came  over  the  mountain  from  the  brazen 
cymbals  struck  by  the  watchmen  to  warn  the  inhabitants  of 
the  oasis  and  the  anchorites. 

Was  Hermas  returned?  Had  the  Blemmyes  outstripped 
him?  From  what  quarter  were  the  marauding  hosts  coming 
on?  Could  he  venture  to  remain  here  near  his  victim,  or  was 
it  his  duty  to  use  his  powerful  arms  in  defense  of  his  helpless 
companions?  In  agonized  doubt  he  looked  down  at  the 
youth's  pallid  features,  and  deep,  sorrowful  compassion  filled 
his  mind. 

How  promising  was  this  young  tree  of  humanity  that  his 
rough  fist  had  broken  off!  and  these  brown  curls  had  only  yes- 
terday been  stroked  by  a  mother's  hand.  His  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  he  bent  as  tenderly  as  a  father  might  over  the  pale 
face  and  pressed  a  gentle  kiss  on  the  bloodless  lips  of  the 
senseless  youth.  A  thrill  of  joy  shot  through  him,  for  Poly- 
karp's  lips  were  indeed  not  cold;  he  moved  his  hand,  and  now 
— the  Lord  be  praised!  he  actually  opened  his  eyes. 

"  And  I  am  not  a  murderer!"  A  thousand  voices  seemed 
to  sing  with  joy  in  his  heart,  and  then  he  thought  to  himself: 

"  First  I  will  carry  him  down  to  his  parents  in  the  oasis,  and 
then  go  up  to  the  brethren." 

But  the  brazen  signals  rang  out  with  renewed  power,  and 
the  stillness  of  the  holy  wilderness  was  broken  here  by  the 
clatter  of  men's  voices,  there  by  a  blast  of  trumpets,  and  there 
again  by  stifled  cries.     It  was  as  if  a  charm  had  given  life  to 


HOMO    SUM.  16? 

the  rocks  and  lent  them  voices;  as  if  noise  and  clamor  were 
rushing  like  wild  torrents  down  every  gorge  and  cleft  of  the 
momitein-side. 

"  It  is  too  late,"  sighed  the  anchorite.  "  If  I  only  could — 
if  I  only  knew — " 

"  Halloo!  halloo!  holy  Paulus!"  a  shrUl  woman's  voice, 
which  seemed  to  come  from  high  up  in  the  air,  rang  out  joyful 
and  triumphant,  interrupting  the  irresolute  man's  meditations, 
"  Hermas  is  alive!  Hermas  is  here  again!  Only  look  up  at 
the  heights.  There  flies  the  standard,  for  he  has  warned  the 
sentinels.  The  Blemmyes  are  coming  on,  and  he  sent  me  to 
seek  you.  You  must  come  to  the  strong  tower  on  the  western 
side  of  the  ravine.  Make  haste!  come  at  once!  Do  you  hear? 
He  told  me  to  tell  you.  But  the  man  in  your  lap — it  is — yes, 
it  is—" 

"  It  is  your  master's  son  Polykarp,"  Paulus  called  back  to 
her.  "He  is  hurt  unto  death;  hurry  down  to  the  oasis,  and 
tell  the  senator;  tell  Dame  Dorothea — " 

"I  have  something  else  to  do  now, " interrupted  the  shep- 
herdess. "  Hermas  has  sent  me  to  warn  Gelasius,  Psoes,  and 
Dulas,  and  if  I  went  down  into  the  oasis  they  would  lock  me 
lip,  and  not  let  me  come  up  the  mountain  again.  What  has 
happened  to  the  poor  fellow?  But  it  is  all  the  same;  there  is 
something  else  for  you  to  do  besides  grieving  over  a  hole  in 
Polykarp  s  head.  Go  up  to  the  tower,  I  tell  you,  and  let  him 
lie — or  carry  him  up  with  you  into  your  new  den,  and  hand 
him  over  to  your  sweetheart  to  nurse. " 

"  Demon!"  exclaimed  Paulus,  taking  up  a  stone. 

"  Let  him  lie!"  repeated  Miriam.  "  1  will  betray  her  hid- 
ing-place to  Phoebicius  if  you  do  not  do  as  Hermas  orders  you. 
Now  I  am  off  to  call  the  others,  and  we  shall  meet  again  at 
the  tower.  And  you  had  better  not  linger  too  long  with  your 
fair  companion — pious  Paul  us — saintly  Paulus ! " 

And  laughing  loudly,  she  sprung  away  from  rock  to  rock  as 
if  borne  up  by  the  air. 

The  Alexandrian  looked  wrathfully  after  her;  but  her  advice 
did  not  seem  to  be  bad.  He  lifted  the  wounded  man  on  his 
shoulders,  and  hastily  carried  him  up  toward  his  cave;  but  be- 
fore he  could  reach  it  he  heard  steps  and  a  loud  agonized 
scream,  and  in  a  few  seconds  Sirona  was  by  his  side,  crying,  in 
passionate  grief:  "It  is  he,  it  is  he — and  oh,  to  see  him  thusl 
But  he  must  live,  for  if  he  were  dead  your  God  of  Love  would 
be  inexorable,  pitiless,  hard,  cruel — it  would  be — " 

She  would  say  no  more,  for  tears  choked  her  voice,  and 
Paulus,  without  listening  to  her  lamentation,  passed  quickly 


168  HOMO    SUM. 

on  in  front  of  her,  entered  the  cave  and  laid  the  unconscious 
man  down  on  the  couch,  saying  gravely  but  kindly,  as  Sirona 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  and  pressed  the  young  man's  power- 
less hand  to  her  lips: 

"  If  indeed  you  truly  love  him,  cease  crying  and  lamenting. 
He  yesterday  got  a  severe  wound  on  his  head;  I  have  washed 
it;  now  do  you  bind  it  up  with  care  and  keep  it  constantly 
cool  with  fresh  water.  You  know  your  way  to  the  spring; 
•when  he  recovers  his  senses  rub  his  feet,  and  give  him  some 
bread  and  a  few  drops  of  the  wine  which  you  will  find  in  the 
little  cellar  hard  by;  there  is  some  oil  there,  too,  which  you  will 
need  for  a  light. 

"  I  must  go  up  to  the  brethren,  and  if  I  do  not  return  t^o- 
morrow  give  the  poor  lad  over  to  his  mother  to  nurse.  Only 
tell  her  this,  that  I,  Paulus,  gave  him  this  wound  in  a  moment 
of  rage,  and  to  forgive  me  if  she  can,  she  and  Petrus.  And 
you,  too,  forgive  me  that  in  which  I  have  sinned  against  you,  and 
if  I  should  fall  in  the  battle  which  awaits  us,  pray  that  the 
Lord  may  not  be  too  hard  upon  me  in  the  day  of  judgment, 
for  my  sins  are  great  and  many. '' 

At  this  moment  the  sound  of  trumpets  sounded  even 
into  the  deepest  recess  of  the  cave.  Sirona  started.  '^  That 
is  the  Eoman  tuba,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  know  the  sound — 
Phcebi(.(tis  is  coming  this  way." 

"He  is  doing  his  duty,"  replied  Paulus.  "  And  stiU,  one 
thing  more.     I  saw  last  night  a  ring  on  your  hand — an  onyx. " 

"  There  it  lies,"  said  Sirona;  and  she  pointed  to  the  furthest 
corner  of  the  cave,  where  it  lay  on  the  dusty  soil. 

"  Let  it  remain  there,"  Paulus  begged  of  her;  he  bent  over 
the  senseless  man  once  more  to  kiss  his  forehead,  raised  his 
hand  toward  Sirona  in  sign  of  blessing,  and  rushed  out  into 
the  open  air. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

Two  paths  led  over  the  mountain  from  the  oasis  to  the  sea; 
both  followed  steep  and  stony  gorges,  one  of  which  was  named 
the  "  short  cut,"  because  the  traveler  reached  his  destination 
more  quickly  by  that  road  than  by  following  the  better  road  in 
the  other  ravine,  which  was  practicable  for  beasts  of  burden. 
Half-way  up  the  height  the  "  short  cut  "  opened  out  on  a  lit- 
tle plateau,  whose  western  side  was  shut  in  by  a  high  mass  of 
rock  with  steep  and  precipitous  flanks.  At  the  top  of  this  rock 
stood  a  tower  built  of  rough  blocks,  in  which  the  anchorite*| 


HOMO    SUM.  169 

were  wont  to  take  refuge  when  they  were  threatened  with  a 
descent  of  their  foes. 

The  position  of  this  castle — as  the  penitents  proudly  styled 
their  tower — was  well  chosen,  for  from  its  summit  they  com- 
manded not  only  the  "  short  cut  "  to  thft  oasis,  but  also  the 
narrow  shell-strewn  strip  of  desert  which  divided  the  western 
declivity  of  the  Holy  Mountain  from  tho  shore,  the  blue-green 
waters  of  the  sea,  and  the  distant  chain  of  hills  on  the  African 
coast. 

Whatever  approached  the  tower,  whether  from  afar  or  from 
the  neighborhood,  was  at  once  espied  by  them,  and  the  side  of 
the  rock  which  was  turned  to  the  road -way  was  so  precipitous 
and  smooth  that  it  remained  inaccessible  even  to  the  natives  of 
the  desert,  who,  with  their  naked  feet  and  sinewy  arms,  could 
climb  points  which  even  the  wild  goat  and  the  jackal  made  a 
■circuit  to  avoid.  It  was  more  accessible  from  the  other  side, 
ind  in  order  to  secure  that,  a  very  strong  wall  had  been  built, 
which  inclosed  the  level  on  Avhich  the  castle  stood  in  the  form 
of  a  horseshoe,  of  which  the  ends  abutted  on  the  dechvity  of 
the  short  road.  This  structure  was  so  roughly  and  inartistic- 
ally  heaped  together  that  it  looked  as  if  formed  by  nature 
rather  than  by  the  hand  of  man.  The  rough  and  unfinished 
appearance  of  this  wall-hke  heap  of  stones  was  heightened  by 
the  quantity  of  large  and  small  pieces  of  granite  which  were 
piled  on  the  top  of  it,  and  which  had  been  collected  by  the  an- 
chorites, in  case  of  an  incursion,  to  roll  and  hurl  down  on  the 
invading  robbers.  A  cistern  had  been  dug  out  of  the  rocky 
soil  of  the  plateau  which  the  wall  inclosed,  and  care  was  taken 
to  keep  it  constantly  filled  with  water. 

Such  precautions  were  absolutely  necessary,  for  the  anchor- 
ites were  threatened  with  dangers  from  two  sides.  First  from 
the  Ishmaelite  hordes  of  Saracens  who  fell  upon  them  from  the 
east,  and  secondly  from  the  Blemmyes,  the  wild  inhabitants 
of  the  desert  country  which  borders  the  fertile  lands  of  Egypt 
and  Nubia,  and  particularly  of  the  barren  highlands  that  part 
the  Ked  Sea  from  the  Nile  valley.  They  crossed  the  sea  in  light 
skiffs,  and  then  poured  over  the  mountain  like  a  swarm  of 
locusts. 

The  little  stores  and  savings  which  the  defenseless  hermits 
treasured  in  their  caves  had  tempted  the  Blemmyes  again  and 
again,  in  spite  of  the  Roman  garrison  in  Pharan,  which  usually 
made  its  appearance  on  the  scene  of  their  incursion  long  after 
they  had  disappeared  with  their  scanty  booty.  Not  many 
months  since,  the  raid  had  been  effected  in  which  old  Stephanus 
had  been  wounded  by  an  arrow,  and  there  was  every  reason  to 


170  HOMO   STJM. 

hope  that  the  wild  marauders  would  not  return  very  soon,  for 
Phcsbicius,  the  commander  of  the  Roman  maniple  in  the  oafiis, 
was  swift  and  vigorous  in  his  oflBce,  and  though  he  had  not 
succeeded  in  protecting  the  anchorites  from  all  damage,  he 
had  followed  up  the  Blemmyes,  who  fled  at  his  approach,  and 
cut  them  off  from  rejoining  their  boats.  A  battle  took  place 
between  the  barbarians  and  the  Romans,  not  far  from  the 
coast  on  the  desert  tract  dividing  the  hills  from  the  sea,  which 
resulted  in  the  total  annihilation  of  the  wild  tribes  and  gave 
ground  to  hope  that  such  a  lesson  might  serve  as  a  warning  to 
the  sons  of  the  desert.  But  if  hitherto  the  more  easily  quelled 
promptings  of  covetousness  had  led  them  to  cross  the  sea,  they 
were  now  animated  by  the  most  sacred  of  all  duties,  by  the 
law  which  required  them  to  avenge  the  blood  of  their  fathers 
and  brothers,  and  they  dared  to  plan  a  fresh  incursion  in 
which  they  should  put  forth  all  their  resources.  They  were  at 
the  same  time  obliged  to  exercise  the  greatest  caution,  and  col- 
lected their  forces  of  young  men  in  the  valleys  that  lay  hidden 
in  the  long  range  of  coast  hills. 

The  passage  of  the  narrow  arm  of  the  sea  that  parted  them 
from  Arabia  Petraea  was  to  be  effected  in  the  first  dark  night; 
the  sun,  this  evening,  had  set  behind  heavy  storm-clouds  that 
had  discharged  themselves  in  violent  rain  and  had  obscured  the 
light  of  the  waning  moon.  So  they  drew  their  boats  and  rafts 
down  to  the  sea,  and,  unobserved  by  the  sentinels  on  the 
mountain  who  had  taken  shelter  from  the  storm  under  their 
little  pent-houses,  they  would  have  reached  the  opposite  shore, 
the  mountain,  and  perhaps  even  the  oasis,  if  some  one  had  not 
warned  the  anchorites — and  that  some  one  was  Hermas. 

Obedient  to  the  commands  of  Paulus,  the  lad  had  appropri- 
ated three  of  his  friend's  gold  pieces,  had  provided  himself  with 
a  bow  and  arrows  and  some  bread,  and  then,  after  muttering 
a  farewell  to  his  father,  who  \^s  asleep  in  his  cave,  he  set  out 
for  Raithu.  Happy  in  the  sense  of  his  strength  and  manhood , 
proud  of  the  task  which  had  been  set  him  and  which  he  deemed 
worthy  of  a  future  soldier,  and  cheerfully  ready  to  fulfill  it 
even  at  the  cost  of  his  life,  he  hastened  forward  in  the  bright 
moonlight.  He  quitted  the  path  at  the  spot  where,  to  render 
the  ascent  possible,  even  to  the  vigorous  desert-travelers,  it 
took  a  zigzag  line,  and  clambered  from  rock  to  rock,  up  and 
down,  in  a  direct  line.  When  he  came  to  a  level  spot  he  flew 
on  as  if  pursuers  were  at  his  heels.  After  sunrise  he  refreshed 
himself  with  a  morsel  of  food,  and  then  hurried  on  again,  not 
heeding  the  heat  of  noon,  nor  that  of  the  soft  sand  in  which  his 
loot  sunk  as  he  followed  the  line  of  the  sea-coast. 


HOMO    SUM.  171 

Thus  passionately  hurrying  onward,  he  thought  neither  ol 
Sirona  nor  of  his  past  life — only  of  the  hills  on  the  further 
shore  and  of  the  Blemmyes — how  he  should  best  surprise  them, 
and,  when  he  had  learned  their  plans,  how  he  might  recross 
the  sea  and  return  to  his  own  people.  At  last,  as  he  got  more 
and  more  weary,  as  the  heat  of  the  sun  grew  more  oppressive, 
and  as  the  blood  rushed  more  painfully  to  his  heart  and  began 
to  throb  more  rapidly  in  his  temples,  he  lost  all  power  of 
thought,  and  that  which  dwelt  in  his  mind  was  no  more  than 
a  dumb  longing  to  reach  his  destination  as  soon  as  possible. 

It  was  the  third  afternoon  when  he  saw  from  afar  the  palms 
of  Kaithu,  and  hurried  on  with  revived  strength.  Before  the 
sun  had  set  he  had  informed  the  anchorite,  to  whom  Paulus 
had  directed  him,  that  the  Alexandrian  declined  their  call,  and 
was  minded  to  remain  on  the  Holy  Mountain. 

Then  Hernias  proceeded  to  the  little  harbor,  to  bargain  with 
the  fishermen  of  the  place  for  the  boat  which  he  needed. 
While  he  was  talking  with  an  old  Amalekite  boatman,  who, 
with  his  black-eyed  sons,  was  arranging  his  nets,  two  riders 
came  at  a  quick  pace  toward  the  bay  in  which  a  large  mer- 
chant ship  lay  at  anchor,  surrounded  by  little  barks.  The 
fisherman  pointed  to  it. 

"It  is  waiting  for  the  caravan  from  Petrsea,"  he  said. 
"  There,  on  the  dromedaiy,  is  the  emperor's  great  warrior 
who  commands  the  Romans  in  Pharan. " 

Hermas  saw  Phcebicius  for  the  first  time,  and  as  he  rode  up 
toward  him  and  the  fisherman  he  started;  if  he  had  followed 
his  first  impulse,  he  would  have  turned  and  have  taken  to 
flight,  but  his  clear  eyes  had  met  the  dull  and  yet  searching 
glance  of  the  centurion,  and,  blushing  at  his  own  weakness,  he 
stood  still  with  his  arms  crossed,  and  proudly  and  defiantly 
awaited  the  Gaul,  who  with  his  companion  came  straight  up  to 
him. 

Talib  had  previously  seen  the  youth  by  his  father's  side;  he 
recognized  him  and  asked  how  long  he  had  been  there,  and  if 
he  had  come  direct  from  the  mountain.  Hermas  answered, 
him  as  was  becoming,  and  understood  at  once  that  it  was  not 
he  that  the  centurion  was  seeking. 

Perfectly  reassured  and  not  without  curiosity  he  looked  at 
the  new-comer,  and  a  smile  curled  his  lips  as  he  observed  that 
the  lean  old  man,  exhausted  by  his  long  and  hurried  ride,  could 
scarcely  hold  himself  on  his  beast,  and  at  the  same  time  it 
struck  him  that  this  pitiable  old  man  was  the  husband  of  the 
blooming  and  youthful  Sirona.  Far  from  feeling  any  remorse 
for  his  intrusion  into  this  man's  house,  he  yielded  entirely  to 


173  HOMO    SUM. 

the  audacious  humor  with  which  his  aspect  filled  him,  and 
when  Phoebicius  himself  asked  him  as  to  whether  he  had  not 
met  on  his  way  with  a  fair-haired  woman  and  a  limping  grey- 
hound, he  replied,  repressing  his  laughter  with  difficulty: 

"  Ay,  indeed!  I  did  see  such  a  woman  and  her  dog,  but  I 
do  not  think  it  was  lame. " 

"  Where  did  you  see  her?"  asked  Phoebicius,  hastily. 

Hermas  colored,  for  he  was  obliged  to  tell  an  untruth,  and 
it  might  be  that  he  would  do  Sirona  an  injury  by  giving  false 
information.  He  therefore  ventured  to  give  no  decided  an- 
swer, but  inquired : 

"  Has  the  woman  committed  some  crime,  that  you  are.  pur- 
suing her?" 

"A  great  one!"  replied  Talib.  "She  is  my  lord's  wife, 
and — " 

"  What  she  has  done  wrong  concerns  mc  alone,"  said  Phcebi' 
cius,  sharply  interrupting  his  companion.  "  I  hope  this  fellow 
saw  better  than  you  who  took  the  crying  woman  with  a  child, 
from  Aila,  for  Sirona.     What  is  your  name,  boy?" 

"  Hermas,"  answered  the  lad.     "  And  wlio  are  you,  pray?" 

The  Gaul's  lips  were  parted  for  an  angry  reply,  but  he  sup- 
pressed it,  and  said: 

"  I  am  the  emperor's  centurion,  and  I  ask  you,  what  did 
the  woman  look  like  whom  you  saw,  and  where  did  you  meet 
her?" 

The  soldier's  fierce  looks  and  his  captain's  words  showefl 
Hermas  that  the  fugitive  woman  had  nothing  good  to  expect  if 
she  were  caught,  and  as  he  was  not  in  the  least  inclined  to  as- 
sist her  pursuers  he  hastily  replied,  giving  the  reins  to  his 
audacity,  "  I  at  any  rate  did  net  meet  the  person  whom  you 
seek;  the  woman  I  saw  is  certainly  not  this  man's  wife,  for  she 
might  very  well  be  his  gr^ddaughter.  She  had  gold  hair 
aud  a  rosy  face,  and  the  greyhound  that  followed  her  was 
called  lambe." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  her?"  shrieked  the  centurion. 

"  In  the  fishing-village  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,"  replied 
Hermas.     "  She  got  into  a  boat,  and  away  it  went!" 

"  Toward  the  north?"  asked  the  Gaul. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  Hermas,  "  but  I  do  not  know,  for  I 
was  in  a  hurry  and  could  not  look  after  her. " 

"  Then  we  will  try  to  take  her  in  Klysma,"  cried  Phoebicius 
to  the  Amalekite.  "  If  only  there  were  horses  in  this  accursed 
desert!" 

"  It  is  four  days'  journey,"  said  Talib,  considering.    "  And 


HOMO    SUM.  173 

beyond  Elim  there  is  no  water  before  the  Wells  of  Moses.  Cer- 
tahily  if  we  could  get  good  dromedaries — " 

"And  if,"  interrupted  Hermas,  "it  were  not  better  that 
you,  my  lord  centurion,  should  not  go  so  far  from  the  oasis. 
For  over  there  they  say  that  the  Blemmyes  are  gathering,  and 
I  myself  am  going  across  as  a  spy  so  soon  as  it  is  dark. " 

Phcebicius  looked  down  gloomily,  considering  the  matter. 
The  news  had  reached  him,  too,  that  the  sons  of  the  desert  were 
preparing  for  a  new  incursion,  and  he  cried  to  Talib,  angrily 
but  decidedly,  as  he  turned  his  back  upon  Hermas,  "  You  must 
ride  alone  to  Klysma,  and  try  to  capture  her.  I  can  not  and 
will  not  neglect  my  duty  for  the  sake  of  a  wretched  woman. " 

Hermas  looked  after  him  as  he  went  away,  and  laughed  oui 
loud  when  he  saw  him  disappear  into  his  inn.  He  hired  a  boat 
from  the  old  man  for  his  passage  across  the  sea  for  one  of  tho 
gold  pieces  given  him  by  Paulus,  and  lying  down  on  the  nets 
he  refreshed  himself  by  a  deep  sleep  of  some  hours'  duration. 
When  the  moon  rose  he  was  roused  in  obedience  to  his  orders, 
and  helped  the  boy  who  accompanied  him,  and  who  understood, 
the  management  of  the  sails  and  rudder,  to  push  the  boat, 
which  was  laid  up  on  the  sand,  down  into  the  sea.  Soon  he 
was  flying  over  the  smooth  and  glistening  waters  before  a  light 
wind,  and  he  felt  as  fresh  and  strong  in  spirit  as  a  young  eagle 
that  has  just  left  the  nest  and  spreads  its  mighty  wings  for  the 
first  time.  He  could  have  shouted  in  his  new  and  delicious 
sense  of  freedom,  and  the  boy  at  the  stem  shook  his  head  in 
astonishment  when  he  saw  Hermas  wield  the  oars  he  had  in- 
trusted to  him,  unskillf  ully  it  is  true,  but  with  mighty  strokes. 

"  The  wind  is  in  our  favor,''  he  called  out  to  the  anchorite 
as  he  hauled  round  the  sail  with  a  rope  in  his  hand;  "  we  shall 
get  on  without  your  working  so  hard.  You  may  save  your 
strength. " 

"  There  is  plenty  of  it,  and  I  need  not  be  stingy  of  it,"  an- 
swered Hermas,  and  he  bent  forward  for  another  powerful 
stroke. 

About  half-way  he  took  a  rest,  and  admired  the  reflection  of 
the  moon  in  the  bright  mirror  of  the  water,  and  he  could  not 
but  think  of  Petrus's  court-yard  that  had  shone  in  the  same 
silvery  light  when  he  had  cUmbed  up  to  Sirona's  window. 
The  image  of  the  fair,  white-armed  woman  recurred  to  his 
mind,  and  a  melancholy  longing  began  to  creep  over  him. 

He  sighed  softly  again  and  yet  again;  but  as  his  breast 
heaved  for  the  third  bitter  sigh,  he  remembered  the  object  of 
Ms  journey  and  his  broken  fetters,  and  with  eager  arrogance 
he  struck  the  oar  flat  on  to  the  water  so  that  it  spurted  high 


174  HOMO    StTM. 

up  and  sprinkled  the  boat  and  him  with  a  shower  of  wet  and 
twinkling  diamond-drops.  He  began  to  work  the  oars  again, 
reflecting  as  he  did  so  that  he  had  something  better  to  do  than 
to  think  of  a  woman.  Indeed,  he  found  it  easy  to  forget 
Sirona  completely,  for  in  the  next  few  days  he  went  through 
every  excitement  in  a  warrior's  life. 

Scarcely  two  hours  after  his  start  from  Eaithu  he  was  stand- 
ing on  the  soil  of  another  continent,  and,  after  finding  a  hid- 
ing-place for  his  boat,  he  slipped  off  among  the  hills  to  watch 
the  movements  of  the  Blemmyes.  The  very  first  day  he  went 
up  to  the  valley  in  which  they  were  gathering;  on  the  second, 
after  being  many  times  seen  and  pursued,  he  succeeded  in 
seizing  a  warrior  who  had  been  sent  out  to  recounoiter,  and  in 
carrying  him  off  with  him;  he  bound  him,  and  by  heavy 
threats  learned  many  things  from  him. 

The  number  of  their  collected  enemies  was  great,  but  Hei  - 
mas  had  hopes  of  outstripping  them,  for  his  prisoner  revealed 
to  him  the  spot  where  their  boats,  drawn  up  on  shore,  lay  hid- 
den under  the  sand  and  stones. 

As  soon  as  it  was  dusk  the  anchorite  in  his  boat  went  toward 
the  place  of  embarkation,  and  when  the  Blemmyes,  in  the 
darkness  of  midnight,  drew  their  first  bark  into  the  water, 
Herman  sailed  off  ahead  of  the  enemy,  landed  in  much  danger 
before  the  western  declivity  of  the  mountain,  and  hastened  up 
toward  Sinai  to  warn  the  Pharanite  watchmen  on  the  beacon. 

He  gained  the  top  of  the  difficult  peak  before  sunrise,  roused 
the  lazy  sentinels  who  had  left  their  post,  and  before  they  were 
able  to  mount  guard,  to  hoist  the  flags  or  begin  to  sound  the 
brazen  cymbals,  he  had  hurried  on  down  the  valley  to  his 
father's  cave. 

Suice  his  disappearance  Miriam  had  incessantly  hovered  round 
Stephanus's  dwelling,  and  had  fetched  fresh  water  for  the 
old  man  every  morning,  noon,  and  evening,  even  after  a  new 
nurse,  who  was  clumsier  and  more  peevish,  had  taken  Paulus's 

Elace.  She  lived  on  roots  and  on  the  bread  the  sick  man  gave 
er,  and  at  night  she  lay  down  to  sleep  in  a  deep  dry  cleft  of 
the  rock  that  she  had  long  known  well.  She  quitted  her  hard 
bed  before  day-break  to  refill  the  old  man's  pitcher  and  to  chat- 
ter to  him  about  Hermas. 

She  was  a  willing  servant  to  Stephanus  because,  as  often  as 
she  went  to  him,  she  could  hear  his  son's  name  from  his  lips, 
and  he  rejoiced  at  her  coming  because  she  always  gave  him  the 
opportunity  of  talking  of  Hermas. 

For  many  weeks  the  sick  man  had  been  so  accustomed  to  let 
^mself  be  waited  on  that  he  accepted  the  shepherdess's  good 


HOMO   SUM.  175 

oflBces  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  she  never  attempted  to  ac- 
count to  herself  for  her  readiness  to  serve  him.  Stephanus 
would  have  suffered  in  dispensing  with  her,  and  to  her,  her 
visits  to  the  well  and  her  conversations  with  the  old  man  had 
become  a  need,  nay,  a  necessity,  for  she  still  was  ignorant 
whether  Hermas  was  yet  alive,  or  whether  Phoebicius  had  killed 
him  in  consequence  of  her  betrayal.  Perhaps  all  that  Stephanus 
told  her  of  his  son's  journey  of  investigation  was  an  invention 
of  Paulus  to  spare  the  sick  man,  and  accustom  him  gradually 
to  the  loss  of  his  child;  and  yet  she  was  only  too  willing  to  be- 
lieve that  Hermas  still  lived,  and  she  quitted  the  neighborhood 
of  the  cave  as  late  as  possible,  and  filled  the  sick  man's  water- 
jar  before  the  sun  was  up,  only  because  she  said  to  herself  that 
the  fugitive  on  his  return  would  seek  no  one  else  so  soon  as  his 
father. 

She  had  not  one  really  quiet  moment,  for  if  a  falling  stone, 
an  approaching  footstep,  or  the  cry  of  a  beast  broke  the  still- 
ness of  the  desert  she  at  once  hid  herself,  and  listened  with  a 
beating  heart;  much  less  from  fear  of  Petrus  her  master,  from 
whom  she  had  run  away,  than  in  the  expectation  of  hearing 
the  step  of  the  man  whom  she  had  betrayed  into  the  hand  of 
his  enemy,  and  for  whom  she  nevertheless  painfully  longed  day 
and  night. 

As  often  as  she  lingered  by  the  spring  she  wetted  her  stub- 
bom  hair  to  smoothe  it,  and  washed  her  face  with  as  much  zeal 
as  if  she  thought  she  should  succeed  in  washing  the  dark  hue 
out  of  her  skin.  And  all  this  she  did  for  him,  that  on  his  re- 
turn she  might  charm  him  as  much  as  the  white  woman  in  the 
oasis,  whom  she  hated  as  fiercely  as  she  loved  him  passionately. 

During  the  heavy  storm  of  last  night  a  torrent  from  the 
mountain  height  had  shed  itself  into  her  retreat  and  driven  her 
out  of  it.  Wet  through,  shelterless,  tormented  by  remorse, 
fear  and  longing,  she  had  clambered  from  stone  to  stone,  and 
sought  refuge  and  peace  under  first  one  rock,  and  then  another; 
thus  she  had  been  attracted  by  the  glimmer  of  light  that  shone 
out  of  the  new  dwelling  of  the  pious  Paulus;  she  had  seen  and 
recognized  the  Alexandrian,  but  he  had  not  observed  her  as 
he  cowered  on  the  ground  near  his  hearth,  deeply  sunk  in 
thought. 

She  knew  now  where  the  excommunicated  man  dwelt  after 
whom  Stephanus  often  asked,  and  she  had  gathered  from  the 
old  man's  lamentations  and  dark  hints  that  Paulus,  too,  had 
been  insnared  and  brought  to  ruin  by  her  enemy. 

As  the  morning  star  began  to  pale  Miriam  went  up  to 
Stephanus's  cave;  her  heart  was  full  of  tears,  and  yet  she  was 


176  HOMO    SUM. 

unable  to  pour  out  her  need  and  suffering  in  a  soothing  floocl 
of  weeping;  she  was  wholly  possessed  with  a  wild  desire  to  sink 
down  on  the  earth  there  and  die,  and  to  be  released  by  death 
from  her  relentless,  driving  torment.  But  it  was  still  too  early 
to  disturb  the  old  man — and  yet  she  must  hear  a  human 
voice,  one  word — exen  if  it  were  a  hard  word — from  the  lips  of 
a  human  being;  for  the  bewildering  feeling  of  distraction 
which  confused  her  mind,  and  the  misery  of  abandonment  that 
crushed  her  heart  were  all  too  cruelly  painful  to  be  borne. 

She  was  standing  by  the  entrance  to  the  cave  when,  high 
above  her  head,  she  heard  the  falling  of  stones  and  the  cry  of 
a  human  voice.  She  started  and  listened  with  outstretched 
neck  and  strung  sinews,  motionless.  Then  she  broke  sud- 
denly into  a  loud  and  piercing  shout  of  joy,  and  flinging  up 
her  arms  she  flew  up  the  mountain  toward  a  traveler  who 
came  swiftly  down  to  meet  her. 

"  Hermas!  Hermas!"  she  shouted,  and  all  the  sunny  delight 
of  her  heart  was  reflected  in  her  cry  so  clearly  and  purely  that 
the  sympathetic  chords  in  the  young  man's  soul  echoed  the 
sound,  and  he  hailed  her  with  joyful  welcome. 

He  had  never  before  greeted  her  thus,  and  the  tone  of  his 
voice  revived  her  poor  crushed  heart  like  a  restorative  draught 
offered  by  a  tender  hand  to  the  lips  of  the  dying.  Exquisite 
delight  and  a  glow  of  gratitude  such  as  she  had  never  before 
felt  flooded  her  soul,  and  as  he  was  so  good  to  her  she  longed 
to  show  him  that  she  had  something  to  offer  in  return  for  the 
gift  of  friendship  which  he  offered  her?  So  the  first  thing  she 
said  to  him  was,  "  I  have  stayed  constantly  near  your  father, 
and  have  brought  him  water  early  and  late,  as  much  as  he 
needed. " 

She  blushed  as  she  thus  for  the  first  time  praised  herself  to 
him,  but  Hermas  exclaimed: 

"  That  is  a  good  girl!  and  I  will  not  forget  it.  You  are  a 
wild,  silly  thing,  but  I  believe  that  you  are  to  be  relied  on  by 
those  to  whom  you  feel  kindly." 

"  Only  try  me,"  cried  Miriam,  holding  out  her  hand  to  him. 
He  took  it,  and  as  they  went  on  together  he  said: 

"  Do  you  hear  the  brass?  I  have  warned  the  watchmen  up 
there;  the  Blemmyes  are  coming.    Is  Paulus  with  my  father? 

"  No,  but  I  know  where  he  is." 

"  Then  you  must  call  him,"  said  the  young  man.  "  Him 
first  and  then  Gelasius,  and  Psoes,  and  Dulas,  and  any  more 
of  the  penitents  that  you  can  find.  They  must  all  go  to  the 
castle  by  the  ravine.  Now  I  will  go  to  my  father;  you  hurry 
on  and  show  that  you  are  to  be  trusted. "    As  he  spoke  he  put 


HOMO   SUM.  177 

his  arm  round  her  waist,  but  she  slipped  shyly  away,  and,  call- 
ing out:  "  I  will  take  them  all  the  message,^'  she  hurried  off. 

In  front  of  the  cave  where  she  had  hoped  to  meet  with 
Paulus  she  found  Sirona;  she  did  not  stop  with  her,  but  con- 
tented herself  with  laughing  and  calling  out  words  of  abuse. 

Guided  by  the  idea  that  she  should  find  the  Alexandrian  at 
the  nearest  well,  she  went  on  and  called  him,  then  hurrying  on 
from  cave  to  cave  she  delivered  her  message  in  Hermas's  name, 
happy  to  serve  him. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

They  were  all  collected  behind  the  rough  wall  on  the  edge 
of  the  ravine — the  strange  men  who  had  turned  their  back  on 
life  with  all  its  joys  and  pains,  its  duties  and  its  delights,  on 
the  community  and  family  to  which  they  belonged,  and  had 
fled  to  the  desert,  there  to  strive  for  a  prize  above  and  beyond 
this  life,  when  they  had  of  their  own  free  will  renounced  all 
other  effort.  In  the  voiceless  desert,  far  from  the  enticing 
echoes  of  the  world,  it  might  be  easy  to  kill  every  sensual  im- 

Eulse,  to  throw  off  the  fetters  of  the  world,  and  so  bring  that 
umanity,  which  was  bound  to  the  dust  through  sin  and  the 
flesh,  nearer  to  the  pure  and  incorporate  being  of  the  Divinity. 

All  these  men  were  Christians,  and,  like  the  Saviour,  who 
had  freely  taken  torments  upon  Himself  to  become  the  Re- 
deemer, they,  too,  sought  through  the  purifying  power  of  suffer- 
ing to  free  themselves  from  the  dross  of  their  impure  human 
nature,  and  by  severe  penance  to  contribute  their  share  of 
atonement  for  their  own  guilt,  and  for  that  of  all  their  race. 
No  fear  of  persecution  had  driven  them  into  the  desert — noth- 
ing but  the  hope  of  gaining  the  hardest  of  victories. 

All  the  anchorites  who  had  been  summoned  to  the  tower 
were  Egyptians  and  Syrians,  and  among  the  former  particu- 
larly there  were  many  who,  being  already  inured  to  abstinence 
and  penance  in  the  service  of  the  old  gods  in  their  own  coun- 
try, now  as  Christians  had  selected  as  the  scene  of  their  pious 
exercises  the  very  spot  where  the  Lord  must  have  revealed 
Himself  to  His  elect. 

At  a  later  date  not  merely  Sinai  itself,  but  the  whole  tract 
of  Arabia  Petraea — through  which,  as  it  was  said,  the  Jews  at 
their  exodus  under  Moses  had  wandered — was  peopled  with 
ascetics  of  like  mind,  who  gave  to  their  settlements  the  names 
of  the  resting-places  of  the  chosen  people,  as  mentioned  in  the 
Scriptures;  but  as  yet  there  was  no  connection  between  the 
individual  peintents,  no  order  ruled  their  lives;  they  might 


178  HOMO    SUM. 

still  be  counted  by  tens,  though  ere  long  they  numbered  hun» 
dreds  and  thousands. 

The  threat  of  danger  had  brought  all  these  contemners  ol 
the  world  and  of  life  in  stormy  haste  to  the  shelter  of  the  tower, 
in  spite  of  their  readiness  to  die.  Only  old  Kosmas,  who  had 
withdrawn  to  the  desert  with  his  wife — she  had  found  a  grave 
there — had  remained  in  his  cave,  and  had  declared  to  Gelasius, 
who  shared  his  cave  and  who  had  urged  him  to  flight,  that  he 
was  content  in  whatever  place  or  whatever  hour  the  Lord  should 
call  him,  and  that  it  was  in  God's  hands  to  decide  whether  old 
age  or  an  arrow-shot  should  open  to  him  the  gates  of  heaven. 

It  was  quite  otherwise  with  the  rest  of  the  anchorites,  who 
rushed  through  the  narrow  door  of  the  watch-tower  and  into 
its  inner  room  till  it  was  filled  to  overflowing,  and  Paulus, 
who  in  the  presence  of  danger  had  fully  recovered  his  equan- 
imity, was  obliged  to  refuse  admission  to  a  new-comer  in  order 
to  preserve  the  closely  packed  and  trembling  crowd  from  in- 
jury. 

Ko  murrain  passes  from  beast  to  beast,  no  mildew  from 
fruit  with  such  rapidity  as  fear  spreads  from  man  to  man. 
Those  who  had  been  driven  by  the  sharpest  lashings  of  terror 
had  run  the  fastest  and  reached  the  castle  first.  They  had 
received  those  who  followed  them  with  lamentation  and  out- 
cries, and  it  was  a  pitiable  sight  to  see  how  the  terrified  crowd, 
in  the  midst  of  their  loud  declarations  of  resignation  to  God's 
guidance  and  their  pious  prayers,  wrung  their  hands,  and  at 
the  same  time  how  painfully  anxious  each  one  was  to  hide  the 
little  property  he  had  saved  first  from  the  disapproval  of  his 
companions,  and  then  from  the  covetousness  of  the  approach- 
ing enemy. 

With  Paulus  came  Sergius  and  Jeremias,  to  whom,  on  the 
way,  he  had  spoken  words  of  encouragement.  All  three  did 
their  utmost  to  revive  the  confidence  of  the  terrified  men,  and 
when  the  Alexandrian  reminded  them  how  zealously  each  of 
them  only  a  few  weeks  since  had  helped  to  roll  the  blocks  and 
stones  from  the  wall,  and  down  the  precipice,  so  as  to  crush 
and  slay  the  advancing  enemy,  the  feeling  was  strong  in  many 
of  them  that,  as  he  hail  already  proved  himself  worthy  in  de- 
fense, it  was  due  to  him  now  to  make  him  their  leader. 

The  number  of  the  men  who  rushed  out  of  the  tower  was 
increasing,  and  when  Hermas  appeared  with  his  father  on  his 
back  and  followed  by  Miriam,  and  when  Paulus  exhorted  his 
companions  to  be  edified  by  this  pathetic  picture  of  filial  love, 
curiosity  tempted  even  the  last  loiterers  in  the  tower  out  into 
the  open  space. 


HOMO    SUM.  179 

The  Alexandrian  sprung  over  the  wall,  went~up  to  Stephanas, 
lifted  him  from  the  shoulders  of  the  panting  youth,  and,  taking 
him  on  his  own,  carried  him  toward  the  tower;  but  the  old 
warrior  refused  to  enter  the  place  of  refuge,  and  begged  his 
friend  to  lay  him  down  by  the  wall.  Paulus  obeyed  nis  wish 
and  then  went  with  Hermas  to  the  top  of  the  tower  to  spy  the 
distance  from  thence. 

As  soon  as  he  had  quitted  him,  Stephanus  turned  to  the  in- 
chorites  who  stood  near  him,  saying: 

"  These  stones  are  loose,  and  though  my  strength  is  indeed 
small,  still  it  is  great  enough  to  send  one  of  them  over  with  a 
push.  If  it  comes  to  a  battle  my  old  soldier's  eyes,  dim  as 
they  *are  now,  may  with  the  help  of  yours  see  many  things  that 
may  be  useful  to  you,  young  ones.  Above  all  things,  if  the 
game  is  to  be  a  hot  one  for  the  robbers,  one  must  command 
here  whom  the  others  will  obey.'' 

"  It  shall  be  you,  father,"  interrupted  Salathiel  the  Syrian. 
"  You  have  served  in  Caesar's  army,  and  you  proved  your 
courage  and  knowledge  of  war  in  the  last  raid.  You  shall 
command  us." 

Stephanus  sadly  shook  his  head,  and  replied:  "  My  voice  is 
becoming  too  weak  and  low  since  this  wound  in  my  breast  and 
my  long  illness.  Not  even  those  who  stand  nearest  to  me 
would  understand  me  in  the  noise  of  battle.  Let  Paulus  be 
your  captain,  for  he  is  strong,  cautious,  and  brave." 

Many  of  the  anchorites  had  long  looked  upon  the  Alexandrian 
as  their  best  stay;  for  many  years  he  had  enjoyed  the  respect 
of  all,  and  on  a  thousand  occasions  had  given  proof  of  his 
strength  and  presence  of  mind,  but  at  this  proposal  they  looked 
at  each  other  in  surprise,  doubt  and  disapproval. 

Stephanus  saw  what  was  passing  in  their  minds. 

"  It  is  true  he  has  erred  gravely,"  he  said.  "  And  before 
God  he  is  the  least  of  the  least  among  us;  but  in  animal 
strength  and  indomitable  courage  he  is  superior  to  you  all. 
"Which  of  you  would  be  willing  to  take  his  place,  if  you  reject 
his  guidance?" 

"  Orion  the  Saite,"  cried  one  of  the  anchorites,  "  is  tall  and 
strong.     If  he  would — " 

But  Orion  eagerly  excused  himself  from  assuming  the  dan- 
gerous office,  and  when  Andreas  and  Joseph  also  refused  with 
no  less  decision  the  leadership  that  was  offered  them,  Stephanus 
said: 

"  You  see,  there  is  no  choice  left  us  but  to  beg  the  Alex- 
andrian to  command  us  here  so  long  as  the  robbers  threaten 
U8,  and  no  longer.     There  he  comes — shall  I  ask  him?" 


180  HOMO    SUM. 

A  murmur  of  consent,  though  by  no  means  of  satisfaction, 
answered  the  old  man,  and  Paulus,  quite  carried  away  by  his 
eagerness  to  stake  liis  life  and  blood  for  the  protection  of  the 
weak  and  fevered  with  a  soldier's  ardor,  accepted  Stephanus's 
commission  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  set  to  work  like  a  gen- 
eral to  organize  the  helpless  wearers  of  sheep-skin. 

Some  he  sent  to  the  top  of  the  tower  to  keep  watch,  others 
he  charged  with  the  transport  of  the  stones;  to  a  third  party 
he  intrusted  the  duty  of  hurling  pieces  of  rock  and  blocKS  of 
stone  down  into  the  abyss  in  the  moment  of  danger;  he  re- 
quested the  weaker  brethren  to  assemble  themselves  together, 
to  pray  for  the  others  and  to  sing  hymns  of  praise,  and  he  con- 
certed signs  and  pass-words  with  all;  he  was  now  here,  now 
there,  and  his  energy  and  confidence  infused  themselves  even 
into  the  faint-hearted. 

In  the  midst  of  these  arrangements  Hermas  took  leave  of 
him  and  of  his  father,  for  he  heard  the  Roman  war-trumpets 
and  the  drums  of  the  young  manhood  of  Pharan,  as  they 
marched  through  the  short  cut  to  meet  the  enemy.  He 
knev/  where  the  main  strength  of  the  Blemmyes  lay  and  com- 
municated this  knowledge  to  the  centurion  Phoebicius  and  the 
captain  of  the  Pharanites.  The  Gaul  put  a  few  short  questions 
to  Hermas,  whom  he  recognized  immediately,  for  since  he  had 
met  him  at  the  harbor  of  Raithu  he  could  not  forget  his  eyes, 
which  reminded  him  of  those  of  Glycera;  and  after  receiving 
his  hasty  and  decided  answers  he  issued  rapid  and  prudent 
orders. 

A  third  of  the  Pharanites  were  to  march  forward  against  the 
enemy,  drumming  and  trumpeting,  and  then  retreat  as  far  as 
the  watch-tower  as  the  enemy  approached  over  the  plain.  ]f 
the  Blemmyes  allowed  themselves  to  be  tempted  thither,  a 
second  third  of  the  warriors  of  the  oasis,  that  could  easily  he  in 
ambush  in  a  cross  valley,  wer'e  to  fall  on  their  left  flank,  while 
Phoebicius  and  his  maniple — hidden  behind  the  rock  on  which 
the  castle  stood — would  suddenly  rush  out  and  so  decide  the 
battle.  The  last  third  of  the  Pharanites  had  orders  to  destroy 
the  ships  of  the  invaders  under  the  command  of  Hermas,  who 
knew  the  spot  where  they  had  landed. 

In  the  worst  case  the  centurion  and  his  men  could  retreat 
into  the  castle,  and  there  defend  themselves  till  the  warriors  of 
the  nearest  sea-ports — whither  messengers  were  already  on  their 
way — should  come  to  the  rescue. 

The  Gaul's  orders  were  immediately  obeyed,  and  Hermas 
walked  at  the  head  of  the  division  intrusted  to  him,  as  proud 
and  as  self-possessed  as  any  of  Csesar's  veterans  leading  his 


HOMO    SUM.  181 

legion  into  the  field.  He  carried  a  bow  and  arrows  at  his  back, 
and  in  his  hand  a  battle-ax  that  he  had  bought  at  Eaithu. 

Miriam  attempted  to  follow  the  troops  he  was  leading,  but 
he  observed  her,  and  called  out,  "  Go  up  to  the  fort,  child,  to 
my  father."    And  the  shepherdess  obeyed  without  hesitation. 

The  anchorites  had  all  crowded  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice; 
they  looked  at  the  division  of  the  forces,  and  signed  and  shout- 
ed down.  They  had  hoped  that  some  part  of  the  fighting  men 
would  be  joined  to  them  for  their  defense,  but,  as  they  soon 
learned,  they  had  hoped  in  vain.  Stephanus,  whose  feeble 
sight  could  not  reach  so  far  as  the  plain  at  the  foot  of  the  de- 
clivity, made  Paulus  report  to  him  all  that  was  going  on  there, 
and  with  the  keen  insight  of  a  soldier  he  comprehended  the 
centurion's  plan.  The  troop  led  by  Hermas  passed  by  below 
the  tower,  and  the  youth  waved  and  shouted  a  greeting  up  to 
his  father.  Stephanus,  whose  hearing  remained  sharper  than 
his  sight,  recognized  his  son's  voice  and  took  leave  of  him  with 
tender  and  loving  words  in  as  loud  a  voice  as  he  could  com- 
mand. Paulus  collected  all  the  overflow  of  the  old  man's  heart 
in  one  sentence,  and  called  out  his  blessings  through  his  two 
hands  as  a  speaking-trumpet  after  his  friend's  son  as  he  de- 
parted to  battle.  Hermas  understood;  but  deeply  as  he  was 
touched  by  this  farewell  he  answered  only  by  dumb  signs.  A 
father  can  find  a  hundred  words  of  blessing  sooner  than  a  son 
can  find  one  of  thanks. 

As  the  youth  disappeared  behind  the  rocks,  Paulus  said : 

"  He  marches  on  like  an  experienced  soldier,  and  the  others 
follow  him  as  sheep  follow  a  ram.  But  hark!  Certainly  the 
foremost  division  of  the  PharaniteSv  and  the  enemy  have  met. 
The  outcry  comes  nearer  and  nearer. " 

"  Then  all  will  be  well,"  cried  Stephanus,  excitedly.  "  If 
they  only  take  the  bait  and  let  themselves  be  drawn  on  to  the 
plateau  I  think  they  are  lost.  From  here  we  can  watch  the 
whole  pi'ogress  of  the  battle,  and  if  our  side  is  driven  back  it 
may  easily  happen  that  they  will  throw  themselves  into  the 
castle.  Now  not  a  pebble  must  be  thrown  in  vain,  for  if  our 
tower  becomes  the  central  point  of  the  struggle,  the  defenders 
"will  need  stones  to  fling. 

These  words  were  heard  by  several  of  the  anchorites,  and  as 
now  the  war-cries  and  the  noise  of  the  fight  came  nearer  and 
nearer,  and  one  and  another  repeated  to  each  other  that  their 
place  of  refuge  would  become  the  center  of  the  combat,  the 
frightened  peniteiits  quitted  the  posts  assigned  to  them  by 
Paulus,  ran  hither  and  thither  in  spite  of  the  Alexandrian's 
pevere  prohibition,  aud  most  of  them  at  last  joined  the  com- 


182  HOMO    SUM.' 

pany  of  the  old  and  feeble,  whose  psalms  grew  more  and  mora 
lamentable  as  danger  pressed  closer  upon  them. 

Loudest  of  all  was  the  wailing  of  the  Saite  Orion,  who  cried, 
with  uplifted  hands : 

"What  wilt  Thou  of  us  miserable  creatures,  oh.  Lord? 
When  Moses  left  Thy  chosen  people  on  this  very  spot  for  only 
forty  days,  they  at  once  fell  away  from  Thee;  and  we,  we  with- 
out any  leader  have  spent  all  our  life  in  Thy  service,  and  have 
given  up  all  that  can  rejoice  the  heart,  and  have  taken  every 
kind  of  suffering  upon  us  to  please  Thee!  and  now  these  hid- 
eous heathens  are  surging  round  us  again,  and  will  kill  us.  Is 
this  the  reward  of  victory  for  our  striving  and  our  long 
wrestling?" 

The  rest  joined  in  the  lamentation  of  the  Saite,  but  Paulus 
stepped  into  their  midst,  blamed  them  for  their  cowardice,  and 
with  warm  and  urgent  speech  implored  them  to  return  to  their 
posts,  so  that  the  wall  might  be  guarded  at  least  on  the  eastern 
and  more  accessible  side,  and  that  the  castle  might  not  fall  an 
easy  prey  into  the  hands  of  an  enemy  from  whom  no  quarter 
was  to  be  expected.  Some  of  the  anchorites  were  already  pro- 
ceeding to  ooey  the  Alexandrian's  injimction,  when  a  fearfal 
cry,  the  war-cry  of  the  Blemmyes,  who  were  in  pursuit  of  the 
Pharanites,  rose  from  the  foot  of  their  rock  of  refuge. 

They  crowded  together  again  in  terror;  Salathiel  the  Syrian 
had  ventured  to  the  edge  of  the  abyss,  and  had  looked  over  old 
Stephanus's  shoulder  down  into  the  hollow,  and  when  he 
rushed  back  to  his  companions,  crying  in  terror:  "  Our  men 
are  flying!"  Gelasius  shrieked  aloud,  beat  his  breast,  and  tore 
his  rough  black  hair,  crying  out: 

"  Oh,  Lord  God,  what  wilt  Thou  of  us?  Is  it  vain  then  to 
strike  after  righteousness  and  virtue  that  Thou  givest  us  over 
unto  death,  and  does  not  fight  for  us?  If  we  are  overcome  by 
the  heathen,  ungodliness  and  Brute  force  will  boast  themselves 
as  though  they  had  won  the  victory  over  righteousness  and 
truth!" 

Paulus  had  turned  from  the  lamenting  hermits,  perplexed 
and  beside  himself,  and  stood  with  Stephanus  watching  the 
fight. 

The  Blemmyes  had  come  in  great  numbers,  and  their  attack, 
before  which  the  Pharanites  were  to  have  retired  as  a  feint,  fell 
with  such  force  upon  the  foremost  division  that  they  and  theil 
comrades,  who  had  rushed  to  their  aid  on  the  plateau,  were 
unable  to  resist  it,  and  were  driven  back  as  far  as  the  spot 
where  the  ravine  narrowed. 

"  Things  are  not  as  they  should  be,"  said  Stephanus. 


'  -^  HOMO    SUM.  183 

"  And  the  cowardly  band,  like  a  drove  of  cattle/'  cried 
Paul  us,  in  a  fury,  "  leave  the  walls  unprotected,  and  blaspheme 
God  instead  of  watching  or  fighting." 

The  anchorites  noticed  his  gestures,  which  were  indeed  those 
of  a  desperate  man,  and  Sergius  exclaimed: 

"  Are  we  then  wholly  abandoned?  Why  does  not  the  thorn- 
bush  light  its  fires  and  destroy  the  evil-doers  with  its  flames? 
Why  is  the  thunder  silent,  and  where  are  the  lightnings  that 
played  round  the  peak  of  Sinai?  Why  does  not  darkness  fall 
upon  us  to  affright  the  heathen?  Why  does  not  the  earth  open 
her  mouth  to  swallow  them  up  like  the  company  of  Korah?" 

"  The  might  of  God,"  cried  Dulas,  "  tarries  too  long.  The 
Lord  must  set  our  piety  in  a  doubtful  light,  for  He  treats  us  as 
though  we  were  unworthy  of  all  care. " 

"  And  that  you  are!"  exclaimed  Paulus,  who  had  heard  the 
last  words,  and  who  was  dragging  rather  than  leading  the 
feeble  Stephanus  to  the  unguarded  eastern  wall.  "  That  you 
are,  for  instead  of  resisting  His  enemies  you  blaspheme  God, 
and  disgrace  yourselves  by  your  miserable  cowardice.  Look  at 
this  sick  old  man  who  is  prepared  to  defend  you,  and  obey  my 
orders  without  a  murmur,  or,  by  the  holy  martyrs,  I  will  drag 
you  to  your  posts  by  your  hair  and  ears,  and  will — " 

But  he  ceased  speaking,  for  his  threats  were  interrupted  by 
a  powerful  voice  which  called  his  name  from  the  foot  of  the 
wall. 

"  That  is  Agapitus,"  exclaimed  Stephanus.  "  Lead  me  to 
the  wall  and  set  me  down  there." 

Before  Paulus  could  accede  to  his  friend's  wish  the  tall  form 
of  the  bishop  was  standing  by  his  side. 

Agapitus  the  Cappadocian  had  in  his  youth  been  a  warrior; 
he  had  hardly  passed  the  limits  of  middle  age,  and  was 
a  vigilant  captain  of  his  congregation.  When  all  the  youth 
of  Pharan  had  gone  forth  to  meet  the  Blemmyes,  he  had  no 
peace  in  the  oasis,  and,  after  enjoining  on  the  presbyters  and 
deacons  that  they  should  pray  in  the  church  for  the  fighting 
men  with  the  women  and  the  men  who  remained  behind,  he 
himself,  accompanied  by  a  guide  and  two  acolytes,  had  gone 
up  the  mountain  to  witness  the  battle. 

To  the  other  priests  and  his  wife,  who  sought  to  detain  him, 
he  had  answered:  "  Where  the  flock  is  there  should  the  shep- 
herd be!" 

Unseen  and  unheard  he  had  gained  the  castle  wall  and  had 
been  a  witness  to  Paulus's  vehement  speech.  He  now  stood 
opposite  the  Alexandrian  with  rolling  eyes,  and  threateningly 
lifted  his  powerful  hand  as  he  called  out  to  him: 


184  HOMO    SUM. 


<c 


And  dare  an  ontcast  speak  thus  to  his  brethren?  Will 
the  champion  of  Satan  give  orders  to  the  soldiers  of  the  Lord? 
It  would  indeed  be  a  joy  to  you  if  by  your  strong  arm  you 
could  win  back  the  good  name  that  your  soul,  crippled,  by  sin 
and  guilt,  has  flung  away.  Come  on,  my  friends!  the  Lord 
is  with  us  and  will  help  us. " 

Paulus  had  let  the  bishop's  words  pass  over  him  in  silence, 
and  raised  his  hands  like  the  other  anchorites  when  Agapitus 
stepped  into  their  midst,  and  uttered  a  short  and  urgent 
prayer. 

After  the  "  Amen  "  the  bishop  pointed  out,  like  a  general, 
to  each  man,  even  to  the  feeble  and  aged,  his  place  by  the  wall 
or  behind  the  stones  for  throwing,  and  then  cried  out,  with  a 
clear  ringing  voice  that  sounded  above  all  other  noise:  "  Show 
to-day  that  you  are  indeed  soldiers  of  the  Most  High." 

Not  one  rebelled,  and  when  man  by  man  each  had  placed 
himself  at  his  post,  he  went  to  the  precipice  and  looked  at- 
tentively down  at  the  fight  that  was  raging  below. 

The  Pharanites  were  now  opposing  the  attack  of  the  Blem- 
myes  with  success,  for  ITioebicius,  rushing  forward  with  his 
men  from  their  ambush,  had  fallen  upon  the  compact  mass  of 
the  sons  of  the  desert  in  flank,  and,  spreading  death  and  ruin, 
had  divided  them  into  two  bodies.  The  well-trained  and  well- 
armed  Romans  seemed  to  have  an  easy  task  with  their  naked 
opponents,  who,  in  a  hand  to  hand  fight,  could  not  avail  them- 
selves of  either  their  arrows  or  their  spears.  But  the  Blem- 
myes  had  learned  to  use  their  strength  in  frequent  battles  with 
the  imperial  troops,  and  so  soon  as  they  perceived  that  they 
were  no  match  for  their  enemies  in  pitched  battle,  their  leaders 
set  up  a  strange  shrill  cry,  their  ranks  dissolved,  and  they  dis- 
persed in  all  directions,  like  a  heap  of  feathers  strewn  by  a 
gust  of  wind. 

Agapitus  took  the  hasty  disappearance  of  the  enemy  for  wild 
flight,  he  sighed  deeply  and  fliankfully  and  turned  to  go  down 
to  the  field  of  battle,  and  to  speak  consolation  to  his  wounded 
fellow-Christians. 

But  in  the  castle  itself  he  found  opportunity  for  exercising 
his  pious  office,  for  before  him  stood  the  shepherdess  whom  he 
had  already  observed  on  his  arrival,  and  she  said,  with  much 
embarrassment,  but  clearly  and  quickly:  "  Old  Stephanus  there, 
my  lord  bishop — Hermas's  father  for  whom  I  carry  water — 
bids  me  ask  you  to  come  to  him,  for  his  wound  has  reopened 
and  he  thinks  his  end  is  near." 

Agapitus  immediately  obeyed  this  call;  he  went  with  hasty 
steps  toward  the  sick  man,  whose  wound  Paulus  and  Orion  had 


HOMO    SUM.  185 

already  bound  up,  and  greeted  him  with  a  familiarity  that  he 
was  far  from  showing  to  the  other  penitents.  He  had  long 
known  the  former  name  and  the  fate  of  Stephanus,  and  it  was 
by  his  advice  that  Hermas  had  been  obUged  to  join  the  deputa- 
tion sent  to  Alexandria,  for  Agapitus  was  of  opinion  that  no 
one  ought  to  flee  from  the  battle  of  life  without  having  first 
taken  some  part  in  it. 

Stephanus  put  out  his  hand  to  the  bishop  who  sat  down  be- 
side him,  signed  to  the  by-standers  to  leave  them  alone,  and 
listened  attentively  to  the  feeble  words  of  the  sufferer.  When 
he  had  ceased  speaking,  Agapitus  said: 

"  I  praise  the  Lord  with  you  for  having  permitted  your  lost 
wife  to  find  the  ways  that  lead  to  Him,  and  your  son  will  be — 
as  you  were  once — a  valiant  man  of  war.  Your  earthly  house 
is  set  in  order,  but  are  you  prepared  for  the  other,  the  ever- 
lasting mansion?" 

"  For  eighteen  years  I  have  done  penance,  and  prayed,  and 
borne  great  sufferings,"  answered  the  sick  man.  "  The  world 
lies  far  behind  me,  and  I  hope  I  am  walking  in  the  path  that 
leads  to  heaven." 

"So  do  I  hope  for  you  and  for  your  soul,"  said  the  bishop. 
"  That  which  is  hardest  to  endure  has  fallen  to  your  lot  in  this 
world,  but  have  you  striven  to  forgive  those  who  did  you  the 
bitterest  wrong,  and  can  you  pray,  '  Forgive  us  our  sins  as  we 
forgive  them  that  sin  against  us?'  Do  you  remember  the 
wonis, '  If  ye  forgive  men  their  trespasses  your  heavenly  Father 
will  also  forgive  you?'  " 

"  Not  only  have  I  pardoned  Glycera,"  answered  Stephanus, 
"  but  I  have  taken  her  again  into  my  heart  of  hearts;  but  the 
man  who  basely  seduced  her,  the  wretch  who,  although  I  had 
done  him  a  thousand  benefits,  betrayed  me,  robbed  me  and  dis- 
honored me,  I  wish  him—" 

"Forgive  him,"  cried  Agapitus,  "as  you  would  be  for- 
given. " 

"  I  have  striven  these  eighteen  years  to  bless  my  enemy," 
replied  Stephanus,  "  and  I  will  still  continue  to  strive — " 

Up  to  this  moment  the  bishop  had  devoted  his  whole  atten- 
tion to  the  sick  anchorite,  but  he  was  now  called  on  all  sides  at 
once,  and  Gelasius,  who  was  standing  by  the  declivity  with 
some  other  anchorites,  called  out  to  him: 

"  Father — save  us — the  heathen  there  are  climbing  up  the 
rocks. " 

Agapitus  signed  a  blessing  over  Stephanus  and  then  turned 
away  from  him,  saying  earnestly  once  more:  "  Forgive,  and 
heaven  is  open  to  you." 


186  HOMO   SUM. 

Many  wounded  and  dead  lay  on  the  plain,  and  the  Pharanites 
■w^re  retreating  into  the  ravine,  for  the  Blemmyes  had  not  in- 
deed fled,  but  had  only  dispersed  themselves,  and  then  had 
climbed  up  the  rocks  which  hemmed  in  the  level  ground  and 
shot  their  arrows  at  their  enemies  from  thence. 

"  Where  are  the  Eomans?"  Agapitus  eagerly  inquired  of 
Orion. 

"  They  are  withdrawing  into  the  gorge  through  which  the 
road  leads  up  here,"  answered  the  Saite.  "But  look!  only 
look  at  these  heathen!  The  Lord  be  merciful  to  us!  they  are 
climbing  up  the  clitfs  like  wood-peckers  up  a  tree." 

"  The  stones,  fly  to  the  stones!"  cried  Agapitus  with  flash- 
ing eyes  to  the  anchorites  that  stood  by.  "  What  is  going  on 
behind  the  wall  there?  Do  you  hear?  Yes — that  is  the  Roman 
tuba.  Courage,  brethren!  the  emperor's  soldiers  are  guarding 
the  weakest  side  of  the  castle.  But  look  here  at  the  naked 
figures  in  the  cleft.  Bring  the  blocks  here:  set  your  shoulders 
stoutly  to  it,  Orion!  one  more  push,  Salathiel!  There  it  goes, 
it  crashes  down !  If  only  it  does  not  stick  in  the  rift!  No! 
thank  God,  it  has  bounded  off — that  was  a  leap!  Well  done — 
there  were  six  enemies  of  the  Lord  destroyed  at  once. " 

"  I  see  three  more  yonder,"  cried  Orion.  "  Come  here, 
Damianus,  and  help  me. " 

The  man  he  called  rushed  forward  with  several  others,  and 
the  first  success  raised  the  courage  of  the  anchorites  so  rapidly 
and  wonderfully  that  the  bishop  soon  found  it  diflficult  to  re- 
strain their  zeal  and  to  persuade  them  to  be  sparing  with  the 
precious  missUes. 

While  under  the  direction  of  Agapitus  stone  after  stone  was 
hurled  clattering  over  the  steep  precipice  down  upon  the 
Blemmyes,  Paulus  sat  by  the  sick  man,  looking  at  the  ground. 

"  You  are  not  helping  them?"  asked  Stephanus. 

"Agapitus  is  right,"  replied  the  Alexandrian.  "I  have 
much  to  expiate,  and  fighting  brings  enjoyment.  How  great 
enjoyment  I  can  understand  by  the  torture  it  is  to  me  to  sit 
still.     The  bishop  blessed  you  affectionately. " 

"  I  am  near  the  goal,"  sighed  Stephanus,  "  and  he  promises 
me  the  joys  of  Heaven  if  I  only  forgive  him  who  stole  my  wife 
from  me.  He  is  forgiven — yes,  all  is  forgiven  him,  and  may 
everything  that  he  undertakes  turn  to  good;  yea,  and  nothing 
turn  to  evil — only  feel  how  my  heart  throbs,  it  is  rallying  its 
strength  once  more  before  it  utterly  ceases  to  beat.  When  it 
is  all  over  repeat  to  Hennas  everything  that  I  have  told  you, 
and  bleoe  him  a  thousand,  thousand  times  in  my  name  and  his 
mother's;  but  never,  never  tell  him  that  in  an  hour  of  weak- 


HOMO    SUM.  ISf 

ness  she  ran  away  with  that  villain — that  man,  that  miserable 
man  I  mean — whom  I  forgive.  Give  Hermas  this  ring,  and 
with  it  the  letter  that  you  will  find  mider  the  dry  herbs  on  the 
couch  in  my  cave;  they  will  secure  him  a  reception  from  his 
uncle,  who  will  also  procure  him  a  place  in  the  army,  for  my 
brother  is  in  high  favor  with  Caesar.  Only  listen  how  Agapitus 
urges  on  our  men;  they  are  fighthig  bravely  there;  that  is  the 
Koman  tuba.  Attend  to  me — the  maniple  will  occupy  the 
castle  and  shoot  down  on  the  heathen  from  thence;  when  they 
come  carry  me  into  the  tower.  I  am  weak  and  would  fain 
collect  my  thoughts,  and  pray  once  more  that  I  may  find 
strength  to  forgive  the  man  not  with  my  lips  only. " 

"  Down  there,  see — there  come  the  Romans,"  cried  Paulus, 
interrupting  him.  "  Here,  up  here!"  he  called  down  to  the 
men,  "  the  steps  are  more  to  the  left. " 

"  Here  we  are,"  answered  a  sharp  voice.  "  You  stay  there, 
you  people,  on  that  projection  of  rock,  and  keep  your  eye  on 
the  castle.  If  any  danger  threatens  call  me  with  the  trumpet. 
I  will  climb  up,  and  from  the  top  of  the  tower  there  I  can  see 
where  the  dogs  come  from. " 

During  this  speech  Stephanus  had  looked  down  and  listened; 
when  a  few  minutes  later  the  Gaul  reached  the  wall  and  called 
out  to  the  men  inside,  "  Is  there  no  one  there  who  will  give 
me  a  hand?"  he  turned  to  Paulus,  saying:  "  Lift  me  up  and 
support  me — quick!" 

With  an  agility  that  astonished  the  Alexandrian,  Stephanus 
stood  upon  his  feet,  leaned  over  the  wall  toward  the  centurion 
— who  had  climbed  as  far  as  the  outer  foot  of  it — looked  him 
in  the  face  with  eager  attention,  shuddered  violently,  and  re- 
pressing his  feelings  with  the  utmost  effort  offered  him  his  lean 
hand  to  help  Paulus. 

"  Servianus!"  cried  the  centurion,  who  was  greatly  shocked 
by  such  a  meeting  and  in  such  a  place,  and  who,  struggling 
painfully  for  composure,  stared  first  at  the  old  man  and  then 
at  him. 

Not  one  of  the  three  succeeded  in  uttering  a  word;  but 
Stephanus's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  Gaul's  features,  and  the 
longer  he  looked  at  him  the  hoUower  grew  his  cheeks  and  the 
paler  his  hps;  at  the  same  time  he  still  held  out  his  hand  to 
the  other,  perhaps  in  token  of  forgiveness. 

So  passed  a  long  minute.  Then  Phcebicius  recollected  that 
he  had  chmbed  the  wall  in  the  emperor's  service,  and  stamp- 
ing with  impatience  at  himself  he  took  the  old  man's  hand  in 
a  hasty  grasp.  But  scarcely  had  Stephanus  felt  the  touch  of 
the  Gaul's  fingers  when  he  started  as  struck  by  lightning,  and 


188  HOMO    SUM. 

flung  himself  with  a  hoarse  cry  on  his  enemy  who  was  hanging 
on  thw  edge  of  the  wall. 

Paulus  gazed  in  horror  at  the  frightful  scene,  and  cried 
aloud  with  fervent  unction:  "  Let  him  go — forgive  that 
Heaven  may  forgive  you." 

"  Heaven!  what  is  Heaven?  what  is  forgiveness!"  screamed 
the  old  man.     "  He  shall  be  damned. " 

I?efore  the  Alexandrian  coiUd  hinder  him  the  loose  stone 
over  which  the  enemies  were  wrestling  in  breathless  combat 
gave  way,  and  both  were  hurled  into  the  abyss  with  the  falling 
rock. 

Paulus  groaned  from  the  lowest  depth  of  his  breast  and 
murmured,  while  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks:  "  He,  too, 
has  fought  the  fight,  and  he,  too,  has  striven  in  vain." 


CHAPTER   X. 

The  fight  was  ended ;  the  sun  as  it  went  to  its  rest  behind 
the  Holy  Mountain  had  lighted  many  corpses  of  Blemmyes, 
and  now  the  stars  shone  down  on  the  oasis  from  the  clear  sky. 

Hymns  of  praise  sounded  out  of  the  church,  and  near  it, 
under  the  hill  against  which  it  was  built,  torches  were  blazing 
and  threw  their  ruddy  light  on  a  row  of  biers,  on  which  under 
green  palm  branches  lay  the  heroes  who  had  fallen  in  the 
battle  against  the  Blemmyes. 

Now  the  hymn  ceased,  the  gates  of  the  house  of  God  opened 
and  Agapitus  led  his  followers  toward  the  dead.  The  congre- 
gation gathered  in  a  half  circle  round  their  peaceful  brethren, 
and  heard  the  blessing  their  pastor  pronounced  over  the  noble 
victims  who  had  sh^  their  blood  in  fighting  the  heathen. 
When  it  was  ended  those  who  in  life  had  been  their  nearest 
and  dearest  went  up  to  the  dead,  and  many  tears  fell  into  the 
sand  from  the  eyes  of  a  mother  or  a  wife,  many  a  sigh  went  up 
to  heaven  from  a  father's  breast.  Next  to  the  bier  on  which 
old  Stephanus  was  resting  stood  another  and  a  smaller  one, 
and  between  the  two  Hermas  knelt  and  wept.  He  raised  his 
face,  for  a  deep  and  kindly  voice  spoke  his  name. 

"  Petrus,"  said  the  lad,  clasping  the  hand  that  the  senator 
held  out  to  him,  "  I  felt  forced  and  driven  out  into  the  world, 
and  away  from  my  father — and  now  he  is  gone  forever,  how 
gladly  I  would  have  been  kept  by  him." 

"  He  died  a  noble  death,  in  battle  for  those  he  loved,"  said 
the  senator,  consolingly. 

"Paulus  was  near  him  when  he  fell,"  replied  Hermas. 
**  My  father  fell  from  the  wall  while  defending  the  tower;  but 


HOMO   SUM.  189 

look  here,  this  girl — poor  child — who  used  to  keep  your  goats, 
died  like  a  heroine.  Poor,  wild  Miriam,  how  kind  I  would  be 
to  you  if  only  you  were  alive  now!" 

Hermas  as  he  spoke  stroked  the  arm  of  the  shepherdess, 
pressed  a  kiss  on  her  small,  cold  hand,  and  softly  folded  it 
with  the  other  across  her  bosom. 

"  How  did  the  girl  get  into  the  battle  with  the  men?"  asked 
Petrus.  "  But  you  can  tell  me  that  in  my  own  house.  Come 
and  be  our  guest  as  long  as  it  pleases  you,  and  until  you  go 
forth  into  the  world;  thanks  are  due  to  you  from  us  all." 

Hermas  blushed  and  modestly  declined  the  praises  which 
were  showered  on  him  on  all  sides  as  the  savior  of  the  oasis. 
When  the  wailing  women  appeared  he  knelt  once  more  at  the 
head  of  his  father's  bier,  cast  a  last  loving  look  at  Miriam's 
peaceful  face,  and  then  followed  his  host. 

The  man  and  boy  crossed  the  court  together.  Hermas  in- 
voluntarily glanced  up  at  the  window  where  more  than  once 
he  had  seen  Sirona,  and  said,  as  he  pointed  to  the  centurion's 
house:  "He,  too,  fell." 

Petrus  nodded  and  opened  the  door  of  his  house.  In  the 
hall,  which  was  lighted  up,  Dorothea  came  hastily  to  meet 
him,  asking:  "  No  news  yet  of  Polykarp?" 

Her  husband  shook  his  head,  and  she  added:  "How,  in- 
deed, is  it  possible?  He  will  write  at  the  soonest  from  Klysma 
or  perhaps  even  from  Alexandria. " 

"  That  is  just  what  I  think,"  replied  Petrus,  looking  down 
to  the  ground.  Then  he  turned  to  Hermas  and  introduced 
him  to  his  wife. 

Dorothea  received  the  young  man  with  warm  sympathy;  she 
had  heard  that  his  father  had  fallen  in  the  fight,  and  how 
nobly  he,  too,  had  distinguished  himself.  Supper  was  ready, 
and  Hermas  was  invited  to  share  it.  The  mistress  gave  her 
daughter  a  sign  to  make  preparations  for  their  guest,  but 
Petrus  detained  Marthana,  and  said,  "  Hermas  may  fill  An- 
tonius's  place;  he  has  still  something  to  do  with  some  of  the 
workmen.     Where  are  Jethro  and  the  house-slaves?" 

"  They  have  already  eaten,"  said  Dorothea. 

The  husband  and  wife  looked  at  each  other,  and  Petrus 
said,  with  a  melancholy  smile:  "  I  beheve  they  are  up  on  the 
mountain. " 

Dorothea  wiped  a  tear  from  her  eye  as  she  replied:  "  They 
will  meet  Antonius  there.  If  only  they  could  find  Polykarp! 
And  yet  I  honestly  say — not  merely  to  comfort  you — it  is  most 
probable  that  he  has  not  met  with  any  accident  in  tho  mountain 


190  HOMO    SUM. 

gorges,  but  has  gone  to  Alexandria  to  escape  the  memones 
that  follow  him  here  at  every  step.     Was  not  that  the  gate?" 

She  rose  quickly  and.  looked  into  the  court,  while  Petrus, 
who  had  followed  her,  did  the  same,  saying,  with  a  deep  sigh, 
as  he  turned  to  Marthana — who,  while  she  offered  meat  and 
bread  to  Her  mas  was  watching  her  parents:  "  It  was  only  the 
slave  Anubis." 

For  some  time  a  painful  silence  reigned  round  the  large 
table,  to-day  so  sparsely  furnished  with  guests. 

At  last  Petrus  turned  to  his  guest  and  said:  "  You  were  to 
tell  me  how  the  shepherdess  Miriam  lost  her  life  in  the  strug- 
gle.    She  had  run  away  from  our  house — " 

"  Up  the  mountain,"  added  Hermas.  "  She  supplied  my 
poor  father  with  water  like  a  daughter. " 

"  You  see,  mother,"  interrupted  Marthana,  "  she  was  not 
bad-hearted;  I  always  aaid  so." 

"  This  morning,"  continued  Hermas,  nodding  in  sad  assent 
to  the  maiden,  "  she  followed  my  father  to  the  castle,  and  im- 
mediately after  his  fall,  Paulus  told  me,  she  rushed  away  from 
it,  but  only  to  seek  me,  and  to  bring  me  the  sad  news.  We 
had  known  each  other  a  long  time;  for  years  she  had  watered 
her  goats  at  our  well,  and  while  I  was  still  quite  a  boy  and  she 
a  little  girl,  she  would  listen  for  hours  when  I  played  on  my 
willow-pipe  the  songs  which  Paulus  had  taught  me.  As  long 
as  I  nlayed  she  was  perfectly  quiet,  and  when  I  ceased  she 
wanted  to  hear  more  and  still  more,  until  I  had  had  too  much 
of  it  and  went  away.  Then  she  would  grow  angry,  and  if  I 
would  not  do  her  will  she  would  scold  me  with  bad  words. 
But  she  always  came  again,  and  as  I  had  no  other  companion 
and  she  was  the  only  creature  who  cared  to  listen  to  me,  I  was 
very  well  content  that  clie  should  prefer  our  well  to  all  the 
others.  Then  we  grew  older  and  I  began  to  be  afraid  of  her, 
for  she  would  talk  in  such  a  godless  way — and  she  even  died  a 
heathen.  Paulus,  who  once  overheard  us,  warned  me  against 
her,  and  as  I  had  long  thrown  away  the  pipe  and  hunted 
beasts  with  my  bow  and  arrow  whenever  my  father  would  let 
me,  I  was  with  her  for  shorter  intervals  when  I  went  to  the 
well  to  draw  water,  and  we  became  more  and  more  strangers; 
indeed,  I  could  be  quite  hard  to  her.  Only  once  after  I  came 
back  from  the  capital  something  happened— but  that  I  need 
not  tell  you.  The  poor  child  was  so  unhappy  at  being  a  slave, 
and  no  doubt  had  first  seen  the  light  in  a  free  house.  She  was 
fond  of  me,  more  than  a  sister  is  of  a  brother — and  when  my 
father  was  dead  she  felt  that  I  ought  not  to  learn  the  news 
from  any  one  but  herself.    She  had  seen  which  way  I  had  gom 


HOMO    SUM.  191 

jyWtfr^he  Phiiranites  and  followed  me  up,  and  she  soon  found 
^e,  for  she  had  the  eyes  of  a  gazelle  and  the  ears  of  a  startled 
bird.  It  was  not  this  time  difficult  to  find  me,  for  when  she 
sought  me  we  were  fighting  with  the  Blemmyes  in  the  green 
hollow  that  leads  from  the  mountain  to  the  sea.  They  roared 
with  fury  like  wild  beasts,  for  before  we  could  get  to  the  sea 
the  fishermen  in  the  little  town  below  had  discovered  their 
boats,  which  they  had  hidden  under  sand  and  stones,  and  had 
carried  them  off  to  their  harbor.  The  boy  from  Eaithu  who 
accompanied  me  had  by  my  orders  kept  them  in  sight,  and 
had  led  the  fishermen  to  the  hiding-place.  The  watchmen 
whom  they  had  left  with  the  boats  had  fled,  and  had  reached 
their  companions  who  were  fighting  round  the  castle,  and  at 
least  two  hundred  of  them  had  been  sent  back  to  the  shore  to 
recover  possession  of  the  boats  and  to  punish  the  fishermen. 
This  troop  met  us  in  the  green  valley,  and  there  we  fell  to 
fighting.  The  Blemmyes  outnumbered  us;  they  soon  sur- 
round^ us  before  and  behind,  on  the  right  side  and  on  the 
left,  for  they  jumped  and  climbed  from  rock  to  rock  like 
mountain-goats,  and  then  shot  down  their  reed-arrows  from 
above.  Three  or  four  touched  me,  and  one  pierced  my  hair 
and  remained  hanging  in  it  with  the  feather  at  the  end  of  the 
shaft.  How  the  battle  went  elsewhere  I  can  not  tell  you,  for 
the  blood  mounted  to  my  head,  and  I  was  only  conscious  that 
I  myself  snorted  and  shouted  like  a  madman,  and  wrestled  with 
the  heathen  now  here  and  now  there,  and  more  than  once 
lifted  my  ax  to  cleave  a  skull.  At  the  same  time  I  saw  a  part 
of  our  men  turn  to  fly,  and  I  called  them  back  with  furious 
words;  then  they  turned  round  and  followed  me  again.  Once 
in  the  midst  of  the  struggle,  I  saw  Miriam,  too,  clinging,  pale 
and  trembling  to  a  rock,  and  looking  on  at  the  fight.  I 
shouted  to  her  to  leave  the  spot  and  go  back  to  my  father, 
but  she  stood  still  and  shook  her  head  with  a  gesture — a 
gesture  so  full  of  pity  and  anguish — I  shall  never  forget  it. 
With  hands  and  eyes  she  signed  to  me  that  my  father  was 
lead,  and  I  understood;  at  least  I  understood  that  some 
dreadful  misfortune  had  happened.  I  had  no  time  for  reflec- 
tion, for  before  I  could  gain  any  certain  information  by  word  of 
mouth,  a  captain  of  the  heathen  had  seized  me,  and  we  came 
to  a  life  and  death  struggle  before  Miriam's  very  eyes.  My 
opponent  was  strong,  but  I  showed  the  girl— ^who  had  often 
taunted  me  for  being  a  weakling  because  I  obeyed  my  father 
in  everything — that  I  need  yield  to  no  one.  I  could  not  have 
borne  to  be  vanquished  before  her,  and  I  flung  the  heathen  to 
the  ground  and  slew  him  with  my  ax.     I  was  only  vaguely 


193  HOMO    SUM. 

conscious  of  hei-  presence,  for  during  my  severe  struggle  I 
could  see  nothing  but  my  adversary.  But  suddenly  I  heard  a 
loud  scream,  and  Miriam  sunk  bleeding  close  before  me. 
While  I  was  kneeling  over  his  comrade  one  of  the  Blemmyes 
had  crept  up  to  me,  and  had  flung  his  lance  at  me  from  a  few 
paces  off.     But  Miriam — Miriam — " 

"  She  saved  you  at  the  cost  of  her  own  life,"  said  Petrus, 
completing  the  lad's  sentence,  for  at  the  recollection  of  the 
occurrence  his  voice  had  failed  and  his  eyes  overflowed  with 
tears. 

Hermas  nodded  assent,  and  then  added,  softly: 

*'  She  threw  up  her  arms  and  called  my  name  as  the  spear 
struck  her.  The  eldest  son  of  Obedianus  punished  the  heathen 
that  had  done  it,  and  I  supported  her  as  she  fell  dying,  and 
took  her  curly  head  on  my  knees  and  spoke  her  name;  she 
opened  her  eyes  once  more,  and  spoke  mine  softly  and  with  in- 
describable tenderness.  I  had  never  thought  that  wild  Miriam 
could  speak  so  sweetly;  I  was  overcome  with  terrible  grief,  and 
kissed  her  eyes  and  her  lips.  She  looked  at  me  once  more  with 
a  long,  wide-open,  blissful  gaze,  and  then  she  was  dead. " 

"  She  was  a  heathen,"  said  Dorothea,  drying  her  eyes,  "  but 
for  such  a  death  the  Lord  will  forgive  her  much. " 

"I  loved  her  dearly,"  said  Marthana,  "and  will  lay  my 
sweetest  flowers  on  her  grave.  May  I  cut  some  sprays  from 
your  blooming  myrtle  for  a  wreath? 

"  To-morrow,  to-morrow,  my  child,"  replied  Dorothea. 
"  Now,  go  to  rest;  it  is  already  very  late." 

"  Only  let  me  stay  till  Antonius  and  Jethro  come  back," 
begged  the  girl. 

"  I  would  willingly  help  you  to  find  your  son,"  said  Her- 
ma?,  "  and  if  you  wish  I  will  go  to  Raithu  and  Klysma,  and 
inquire  among  the  fishermen.  Had  the  centurion" — and  as 
he  spoke  the  yoang  soldier  Moked  down  in  some  embarrass- 
ment, "  had  the  centurion  found  his  fugitive  wife  of  whom  he 
was  in  pursuit  with  Talib,  the  Amalekite,  before  he  died?" 

"  Sirona  has  not  yet  reappeared,"  replied  Petrus,  "and 
perhaps — but  just  now  you  mentioned  the  name  of  Paulus, 
who  was  so  dear  to  you  and  your  father.  Do  you  know  that  it 
was  he  who  so  shamelessly  ruined  the  domestic  peace  of  the 
centurion?" 

"  Paulus!"  cried  Hermas.     "  How  can  you  believe  it?" 

"  Phoebicius  found  his  sheep-skin  in  his  wife's  room,"  re- 
plied Petrus,  gravi;ly.  "  And  the  impudent  Alexandrian 
recognized  it  as  his  own  before  us  all  and  allowed  the  Gaul  to 


HOMO    SUM.  193 

punish  him.  He  committed  the  disgraceful  deed  the  very 
evening  that  you  were  sent  off  to  gain  intelligence." 

■'  And  Phcebicius  flogged  him?"  cried  Hermas,  beside  him- 
self. "  And  the  poor  fellow  bore  this  disgrace  and  your 
blame,  and  all — all  for  my  sake.  Now  I  understand  what  he 
meant!  I  met  him  after  the  battle,  and  he  told  me  that  my 
father  was  dead.  When  he  parted  from  me  he  said  he  was  of 
all  sinners  the  greatest,  and  that  I  should  hear  it  said  down  in 
the  oasis.  But  I  know  better;  he  is  great-hearted  and  good, 
and  I  will  not  bear  that  he  should  be  disgraced  and  slandered 
for  my  sake. "  Hermas  had  sprung  up  with  these  words,  and 
as  he  met  the  astonished  gaze  of  his  host's  he  tried  to  collect 
himself,  and  said: 

"  Paulus  never  even  saw  Sirona,  and  I  repeat  it,  if  there  is 
a  man  who  may  boast  of  being  good  and  pure  and  quite  with- 
out sin,  it  is  he.  For  me,  and  to  save  me  from  punishment 
and  my  father  from  sorrow,  he  owned  a  sin  that  he  never  com- 
mitted. Such  a  deed  is  just  like  him — the  brave,  faithful 
friend!  But  such  shameful  suspicion  and  disgrace  shall  not 
weigh  upon  him  a  moment  longer!" 

"  You  are  speaking  to  an  older  man,"  said  Petrus,  angrily 
interrupting  the  youth's  vehement  speech.  "  Your  friend  ac- 
knowledged with  his  own  lips — " 

"  Then  he  told  a  lie  out  of  pure  goodness,"  Hermas  in- 
sisted. "  The  sheep-skin  that  the  Gaul  found  was  mine.  I 
had  gone  to  Sirona,  while  her  husband  was  sacrificing  to  Mith- 
ras, to  fetch  some  wine  for  my  father,  and  she  allowed  me  to 
try  on  the  centurion's  armor;  when  he  unexpectedly  returned 
I  leaped  out  into  the  street  and  forgot  that  luckless  sheep-skin. 
Paulus  met  me  as  I  fled,  and  said  he  would  set  it  all  right,  and 
sent  me  away — to  take  my  place  and  save  my  father  a  great 
trouble.  Look  at  me  as  severely  as  you  will,  Dorothea,  but  it 
was  only  in  thoughtless  folly  that  I  slipped  into  the  Gaul's 
house  that  evening,  and  by  the  memory  of  my  father — of 
whom  Heaven  has  this  day  bereft  me— I  swear  that  Sirona 
only  amused  herself  with  me  as  with  a  boy,  a  child,  and  even 
refused  to  let  me  kiss  her  beautiful  golden  hair.  As  surely  as 
I  hope  to  become  a  warrior,  and  as  surely  as  my  father's  spirit 
hears  what  I  say,  the  guilt  that  Paulus  took  upon  himself  was 
never  committed  at  all,  and  when  you  condemned  Sirona  you 
did  an  injustice,  for  she  never  broke  her  faith  to  her  husband 
for  me,  nor  still  less  for  Paulus. " 

Petrus  and  Dorothea  exchanged  a  meaning  glance,  and 
Dorothea  said: 

"  Why  have  we  to  learn  all  this  from  the  lips  of  a  stranger? 


194  HOMO    SUM. 

It  sounds  very  extraordinary,  and  yet  how  simple!  Ay,  huo- 
band,  it  would  have  become  us  better  to  guess  something  of 
this  than  to  doubt  Sirona.  From  the  first  it  certainly  seemed 
to  me  impossible  that  that  handsome  woman,  for  whom  quite 
different  people  had  troubled  themselves,  should  err  for  this 
queer  beggar — " 

"  What  cruel  injustice  has  fallen  on  the  poor  man!'*  cried 
Petrus.  "  If  he  had  boasted  of  some  noble  deed  we  should  in- 
deed have  been  less  ready  to  give  him  credence. " 

"  We  are  suffering  heavy  punishment,"  sighed  Dorothea, 
"  and  my  heart  is  bleeding.  Why  did  you  not  come  to  us, 
Ilermas,  if  you  wanted  wine?  How  much  suffering  would 
have  been  spared  if  you  had!" 

Th3  lad  looked  down,  and  was  silent;  but  soon  he  recollected 
himseK,  and  said,  eagerly: 

"  Let  me  go  and  seek  the  hapless  Paul  us;  I  return  you 
thanks  for  your  kindness,  but  I  can  not  bear  tostay  here  any 
longer.     I  must  go  back  to  the  mountain." 

The  senator  and  his  wife  did  not  detain  him,  and  when  the 
court-yard  gate  had  closed  upon  him  a  great  stillness  reigned 
in  Petrus's  sitting-room.  Dorothea  leaned  far  back  in  her  seat 
and  sat  looking  in  her  lap  while  the  tears  rolled  over  her 
cheeks;  Marthana  held  her  hand  and  stroked  it,  and  the 
senator  stepped  to  the  window  and  sighed  deeply  as  he  looked 
down  into  the  dark  court.  Sorrow  lay  on  all  their  hearts  like 
a  heavy-laden  burden.  All  was  still  in  the  spacious  room,  only 
now  and  then  a  loud,  long-drawn  cry  of  the  wailing  women 
rang  through  the  quiet  night  and  reached  them  through  the 
open  window;  it  was  a  heavy  hour,  rich  in  vain  but  silent 
self-accusation,  anxiety  and  short  prayers;  poor  in  hope  or 
consolation. 

Presently  Petrus  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  Dorothea  rose  to 
go  up  to  him,  and  to  say  to  him  some  sincere  word  of  affec- 
tion; but  just  then  the  dogs  in  the  yard  barked,  and  the 
agonized  father  said,  softly — in  deep  dejection,  and  prepared 
for  the  worst: 

"Most  likely  it  is  they." 

The  deaconess  pressed  his  hand  in  hers,  but  drew  back  when 
a  light  tap  was  heard  at  the  court-yard  gate. 

"  It  is  not  Jethro  and  Antonius,"  said  Petrus;  "  they  have 
a  key." 

Marthana  had  gone  up  to  him,  and  she  clung  to  him  as  he 
leaned  far  out  of  the  window  and  called  to  whoever  it  was  that 
had  tapped: 

"  Who  is  that  knocking?" 


•  HOMO    SUM.  195 

The  dogs  barked  so  lond  that  neither  the  senator  nor  the 
▼omen  were  able  to  hear  the  answer  which  seemed  to  be  re- 
turned. 

"Listen  to  Argus,"  said  Dorothea;  "he  never  howls  like 
that  but  when  you  come  home,  or  one  of  us,  or  when  he  is 
pleased. " 

Petrus  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips  and  sounded  a  clear,  shrill 
"vhistle,  and  as  the  dogs,  obedient  to  this  signal,  were  silent, 
he  once  more  called  out: 

"  Whoever  you  may  be,  say  plainly  who  you  are,  that  I  may 
open  the  gate. " 

They  were  kept  waiting  some  few  minutes  for  the  answer, 
and  the  senator  was  on  the  point  of  repeating  his  inquiry, 
when  a  gentle  voice  timidly  came  from  the  gate  to  the  window, 
saying: 

"jft  is  I,  Petrus,  the  fugitive  Sirona."  Hardly  had  the 
words  tremulously  pierced  the  silence,  when  Marthaua  broke 
from  her  father,  whose  hand  was  resting  on  her  shoulder,  and 
flew  out  of  the  door,  down  the  steps,  and  out  to  the  gate. 

"  Sirona;  poor,  dear  Sirona,"  cried  the  girl  as  she  pushed 
back  the  bolt;  as  soon  as  she  had  opened  the  door  and  Sirona 
had  entered  the  court,  she  threw  herself  on  her  neck,  and 
kissed  and  stroked  her  as  if  she  were  her  long-lost  sister  found 
again;  then,  without  allowing  her  to  speak,  she  seized  her 
hand  and  drew  her — in  spite  of  the  slight  resistance  she 
oifered — with  many  affectionate  exclamations  up  the  steps  and 
into  the  sitting-rocm.  Petrus  and  Dorothea  met  her  on  the 
threshold,  and  the  latter  pressed  her  to  her  heart,  kissed  her 
forehead,  and  said,  "Poor  woman;  we  know  now  that  we 
have  done  you  an  injustice,  and  will  try  to  make  it  good." 
The  senator,  too,  went  up  to  her,  took  her  hand  and  added  his 
greetings  to  those  of  his  wife,  for  he  knew  not  whether  she  had 
as  yet  heard  of  her  husband's  end. 

Sirona  could  not  find  a  word  in  reply.  She  had  expected  to 
be  expelled  as  a  castaway  when  she  came  down  the  mountain, 
losing  her  way  in  the  darkness.  Her  sandals  were  cut  by  the 
sharp  rocks,  and  hung  in  strips  to  her  bleeding  feet,  her  beau- 
tiful hair  was  tumbled  by  the  night  wind,  and  her  white  robe 
looked  like  a  ragged  beggar's  garment,  for  she  had  torn  it  to 
make  bandages  for  Polykarp's  wound. 

Some  hours  had  already  passed  since  she  had  left  her  patient 
— her  heart  full  of  dread  for  him  and  of  anxiety  as  to  the  hard 
reception  she  might  meet  with  from  his  parents. 

How  her  hand  shook  with  fear  of  Petrus  and  Dorothea  as 
i^e  raised  the  brazen  knocker  of  the  senator's  door,  and  now — 


196  HOMO    SUM. 

B  father,  a  mother,  a  sister  opened  their  arms  to  her,  and  an 
afifectionate  home  smiled  upon  her.  Her  heart  and  soul  over- 
flowed with  boundless  emotion  and  unlimited  thankfulness, 
and  weeping  loudly,  she  pressed  her  clasped  hands  to  her 
breast. 

But  she  spared  only  a  few  moments  for  the  enjoyment  of 
these  feelings  of  delight,  for  there  was  no  happiness  for  her 
without  Polykarp,  and  it  was  for  his  sake  that  she  had  under- 
taken this  perilous  night  journey.  Marthana  had  tenderly 
approached  her,  but  she  gently  put  her  aside,  sayhig:  "  Not 
just  now,  dear  girl.  I  have  already  wasted  an  hour,  for  I  lost 
my  way  in  the  ravines.  Get  ready,  Petrus,  to  come  back  to 
the  mountain  with  me  at  once,  for — but  do  not  be  startled, 
Dorothea;  Paul  us  says  that  the  worst  danger  is  over,  and  if 
Polykarp — " 

*'  For  God's  sake,  do  you  know  where  he  is?"  cried  Doro- 
thea, and  her  cheeks  crimsoned,  while  Petrus  turned  pale 
and,  interrupting  her,  asked,  iu  breathless  anxiety: 

"  Where  is  Polykarp,  and  what  has  happened  to  him?" 

"  Prepare  yourself  to  hear  bad  news,"  said  Sirona,  looking 
at  the  pair  with  mournful  anxiety,  as  if  to  crave  their  pardon 
for  the  evil  tidings  she  was  obliged  to  bring.  "  Polykarp  had 
ft  fall  on  a  sharp  stone,  and  so  wounded  his  head.  Paulus 
brought  him  to  me  this  morning  before  he  set  out  against  the 
?31emmyes,  that  I  might  nurse  him.  I  have  incessantly  cooled 
his  wound,  and  toward  midday  he  opened  his  eyes  and  knew 
me  again,  and  said  you  would  be  anxious  about  him.  After 
sundown  he  went  to  sleep,  but  he  is  not  wholly  free  from 
fever,  and  as  soon  as  Paulus  came  in  I  set  out  to  quiet  your 
anxiety  and  to  entreat  you  to  give  me  a  cooling  potion,  that  I 
may  return  to  him  with  it  at  once."  The  deepest  sorrow 
sounded  in  Sirona's  accents  as  she  told  her  story,  and  tears 
had  started  to  her  eyes  as  she  related  to  the  parents  what  had 
befallen  their  son.  Petrus  and  Dorothea  listened  as  to  a 
singer,  who,  dressed  indeed  in  robes  of  mourning,  nevertheless 
sings  a  lay  of  return  and  hope  to  a  harp  wreathed  with  flowers. 

*'  Quick,  quick,  Marthana!"  cried  Dorothea,  eagerly,  and 
with  sparkling  eyes,  before  Sirona  had  ended.  "  Quick!  the 
basket  with  the  bandages.  I  will  mix  the  fever-draught  my- 
self. "     Petrus  went  up  to  the  Gaulish  woman. 

"  It  is  really  no  worse  than  you  represent?"  he  asked,  in  a 
low  voice.     "  He  is  alive?  and  Paulus — " 

"  Paulus  says,"  interrupted  Sirona,  "that  with  good  nurs- 
ing  the  sick  man  will  be  well  in  a  few  weeks. " 
And  you  can  lead  me  to  him?" 


HOMO   SUM.  197 

**  I — oh,  alas!  alas!"  Sirona  cried,  striking  her  hand  against 
her  forehead.  "  I  shall  never  succeed  in  finding  my  way  back, 
for  I  noticed  no  way-marks!  But  stay —  Before  us  a  penitent 
from  Memphis,  who  has  been  dead  a  few  weeks — " 

"  Old  Serapion?"  asked  Petrus. 

"  That  was  his  name,"  exclaimed  Sirona.  "  Do  you  know 
his  cave?" 

"  How  should  1?"  replied  Petrus.  "  But  perhaps  Agapi- 
tus— " 

"  The  spring  where  I  got  the  water  to  cool  Polykarp's 
wound — Paul  us  calls  it  the  partridge's  spring." 

"  The  partridge's  spring,"  repeated  the  senator,  "  I  know 
that."  With  a  deep  sigh  he  took  his  staff,  and  called  to 
Dorothea: 

"  Do  you  prepare  the  draught,  the  bandages,  torches,  and 
your  good  litter,  while  I  knock  at  our  neighbor  Magadon's 
door,  and  ask  him  to  lend  us  slaves." 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,"  said  Marthana. 

"  No,  no;  you  stay  here  with  your  mother." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  I  can  wait  here?"  asked  Dorothea. 
"  I  am  going  with  you." 

"  There  is  much  here  for  you  to  do,"  replied  Petrus,  eva- 
sively, "  and  we  must  climb  the  hill  quickly." 

"I  should  certainly  delay  you,"  sighed  the  mother;  "but 
take  the  girl  with  you;  she  has  a  light  and  lucky  hand." 

"  If  you  think  it  best,"  said  the  senator,  and  he  left  the 
room. 

While  the  mother  and  daughter  prepared  everything  for  the 
night  expedition,  and  came  and  went,  they  found  time  to  put 
many  questions  and  say  many  affectionate  words  to  Sirona. 
Marthana,  even  without  interrupting  her  work,  set  food  and 
drink  for  the  weary  woman  on  the  table  by  which  she  had 
sunk  on  a  seat;  but  she  hardly  moistened  her  lips. 

When  the  young  girl  showed  her  the  basket  that  she  had 
filled  with  medicine  and  linen  bandages,  with  wine  and  pure 
water,  Sirona  said:  "  Now  lend  me  a  pair  of  your  strongest 
sandals,  for  mine  are  all  torn,  and  I  can  not  follow  the  men 
without  shoes,  for  the  stones  are  sharp  and  cut  into  the  flesh." 

Marthana  now  perceived  for  the  first  time  the  blood  on  her 
friend's  feet;  she  quickly  took  the  lamp  from  the  table  and 
placed  it  on  the  pavement,  exclaiming,  as  she  knelt  down  in 
front  of  Sirona  and  took  her  slender  white  feet  in  her  hannd 
to  look  at  the  wounds  on  her  soles: 

*'  Good  heavens!  here  are  three  deep  cuts!" 

In  a  moment  she  had  a  basin  at  hand,  and  was  carefully 


198  HOMO    SUM. 

bathing  the  wounds  in  Sirona's  feet;  while  she  was  wrapping 
the  injured  foot  in  strips  of  linen  Dorothea  came  up  to  them. 

"  I  would/'  she  said,  "  that  Polykarp  were  only  here  now; 
this  roll  would  suffice  to  bind  you  both.''  A  faint  flush  over- 
spread Sirona's  cheeks,  but  Dorothea  was  suddenly  conscious 
of  what  she  had  said,  and  Marthana  gently  pressed  her  friend's 
hand. 

When  the  bandage  was  securely  fixed  Sirona  attempted  to 
walk,  but  she  succeeded  so  badly  that  Petrus,  who  now  came 
back  with  his  friend  Magadon  and  his  sons  and  several  slaves, 
found  it  necessary  to  strictly  forbid  her  to  accompany  them. 
He  felt  sure  of  finding  his  son  without  her,  for  one  of  Mag- 
adon's  people  had  often  carried  bread  and  oil  to  old  Serapiou, 
and  knew  his  cave. 

Before  the  senator  and  his  daughter  left  the  room  he  whis- 
pered a  few  words  to  his  wife,  and  together  they  went  up  to 
Sirona. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  asked,  "  what  has  happened  to  your 
husband?" 

Sirona  nodded.  "  I  heard  it  from  Paulus,"  she  answered. 
"  Now  I  am  quite  alone  in  the  world." 

"  Not  so,"  replied  Petrus.  "  You  will  find  shelter  and  love 
under  our  roof  as  if  it  were  your  father's,  so  long  as  it  suits 
you  to  stay  with  us.  You  need  not  thank  us — we  are  deeply 
m  your  debt.  Farewell  till  we  meet  again,  wife.  I  would 
Polykarp  were  safe  here,  and  that  you  had  seen  his  wound. 
Come,  Marthana,  the  minutes  are  precious. " 

When  Dorothea  and  Sirona  were  alone  the  deaconess  said: 
"  Now  I  will  go  and  make  up  a  bed  for  you,  for  you  must  be 
very  tired." 

"No,  no!"  begged  Sirona.  "I  will  wait  and  watch  with 
you,  for  I  certainly  could  not  sleep  till  I  know  how  it  is  with 
him."  She  spoke  so  warqily  and  eagerly  that  the  deaconess 
gratefully  offered  her  hand  to  her  young  friend.  Then  she 
said : 

"  I  will  leave  you  alone  for  a  few  minutes,  for  my  heart  is 
so  full  of  anxiety  that  I  must  needs  go  and  pray  for  help  for 
him,  and  for  courage  and  strength  for  myself." 

"  Take  me  with  you,"  entreated  Sirona  in  a  low  tone.  "  In 
my  need  I  opened  my  heart  to  your  good  and  loving  God,  and 
I  will  never  more  pray  to  any  other.  The  mere  thought  of 
Him  strengthened  and  comforted  me,  and  now,  if  ever,  in  this 
hour  I  need  His  merciful  support." 

"  My  child,  my  daughter!"   cried  the  deaconess,  deeply 


HOMO    SUM.  199 

moved.  She  bent  over  Sirona,  kissed  her  forehead  and  her 
lips,  and  led  her  by  the  hand  into  her  quiet  sleeping-room. 

"  This  is  the  place  where  I  most  love  to  pray/'  she  said, 
*'  although  there  is  here  no  image  and  no  altar.  My  God  is 
everywhere  present  and  in  every  place  I  can  find  Him." 

The  two  women  knelt  down  side  by  side,  and  both  besought 
the  same  God  for  the  same  mercies — not  for  themselves,  but 
for  another;  and  both  in  their  sorrow  could  give  thanks — 
Sirona,  because  in  Dorothea  she  had  found  a  mother,  and 
Dorothea,  because  in  Sirona  she  had  found  a  dear  and  loving 
daughter. 

CHAPTER  XL 

Paultjs  was  sitting  in  front  of  the  cave  that  had  sheltered 
Polykarp  and  Sirona,  and  he  watched  the  torches  whose  light 
lessened  as  the  bearers  went  further  and  further  toward  the 
valley.  They  lighted  the  way  for  the  wounded  sculptor,  who 
was  being  borne  home  to  the  oasis,  lying  in  his  mother's  easy 
litter,  and  accompanied  by  his  father  and  his  sister. 

"  Yet  an  hour,"  thought  the  anchorite,  "  and  his  mother 
will  have  her  son  again,  yet  a  week  and  Polykarp  will  rise 
from  his  bed,  yet  a  year  and  he  will  remember  nothing  of 
yesterday  but  a  scar — and  perhaps  a  kiss  that  he  pressed  on 
the  Gaulish  woman's  rosy  lips.  I  shall  find  it  harder  to  forget. 
The  ladder  which  for  so  many  years  I  had  labored  to  con- 
struct, on  which  I  had  thought  to  scale  heaven,  and  which 
looked  to  me  so  lofty  and  so  safe,  there  it  lies  broken  to  pieces, 
and  the  hand  that  struck  it  down  was  my  own  weakness.  It 
would  almost  seem  as  if  this  weakness  of  mine  had  more  power 
than  what  we  call  moral  strength,  for  that  which  it  took  tlie 
one  years  to  build  up,  was  wrecked  by  the  other  in  a  moment. 
In  weakness  only  am  I  a  giant. " 

Paulus  shivered  at  these  words,  for  he  was  cold.  Early  in 
that  morning  when  he  had  taken  upon  himself  Hermas's  guilt 
he  had  abjured  wearing  his  sheep-skin;  now  his  body,  accus- 
tomed to  the  warm  wrap,  suffered  severely,  and  his  blood 
coursed  with  fevered  haste  through  his  veins  since  the  efl'orts, 
night-watches,  and  excitement  of  the  last  few  days.  He  drew 
his  httle  coat  close  round  him  with  a  shiver,  and  muttered: 
"  I  feel  like  a  sheep  that  has  been  shorn  in  midwiviter,  and  my 
head  burns  as  if  I  were  a  baker  and  had  to  draw  the  bread  out 
of  the  oven;  a  child  might  knock  me  down,  and  my  eyes  are 
heavy.  I  have  not  even  the  energy  to  collect  my  thoughts  for 
a  prayer,  of  which  I  am  in  such  sore  need.     My  gojd  is  un- 


300  HOMO   SUM. 

doubtedly  tlie  right  one,  but  so  soon  as  I  seem  to  be  nearing 
it,  my  weakness  snatches  it  from  me,  as  the  wind  swept  back 
the  fruit-laden  boughs  which  Tantalus,  parched  with  thirst, 
tried,  to  grasp.  I  fled  from  the  world  to  this  mountain,  and 
the  world  has  pursued,  me  and  has  flung  its  snares  round  my 
feet.  I  must  seek  a  lo)ielier  waste  in  which  I  may  be  alone — 
quite  alone  with  my  God  and  myself.  There,  perhaps,  I  mar 
find  the  way  I  seek,  if  indeed  the  fact  that  the  creature  that  1 
call  *  I,'  in  which  the  whole  world  with  all  its  agitations  in 
little  finds  room — and  which  will  accompany  me  even  there — 
does  not  once  again  frustrate  all  my  labor.  He  who  takes  his 
Self  with  him  into  the  desert  is  not  alone. " 

Paulus  sighed  deeply,  and  then  pursued  his  reflections: 
"  How  puffed  up  with  pride  I  was  after  I  had  tasted  the 
GauFs  rods  in  place  of  Hermas,  and  then  I  was  like  a  drunken 
man  who  falls  down-stairs  step  by  step.  And  poor  Stephanus, 
too,  had  a  fall  when  he  was  so  near  the  goal!  He  failed  in 
strength  to  forgive,  and  the  senator  who  has  just  now  left  me, 
and  whose  innocent  son  I  had  so  badly  hurt,  when  we  parted 
forgivingly  gave  me  his  hand.  I  could  see  that  he  did  forgive 
me  with  all  his  heart,  and  this  Petrus  stands  in  the  midst  of 
life,  and  is  busy  early  and  late  with  mere  worldly  affairs." 

For  a  time  he  looked  thoughtfully  before  him,  and  then  he 
went  on  in  his  soliloquy:  "  What  was  the  story  that  old  Sera- 
pion  used  to  tell?  In  the  Thebaid  there  dwelt  a  penitent  who 
thought  he  led  a  perfectly  saintly  life  and  far  transcended  all 
his  companions  in  stern  virtue.  Once  he  dreamed  that  there 
was  in  Alexandria  a  man  even  more  perfect  than  himself; 
Phabias  was  his  name,  and  he  was  a  shoe-maker,  dwelling  in 
the  White  Road  near  the  harbor  of  Kibotos.  The  anchorite  at 
once  went  to  the  capital  and  found  the  shoe-maker,  and  when 
he  asked  him:  'How  do  you  serve  the  Lord?  How  do  you 
conduct  your  life?'  Phabis  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  '  I 
serve  my  Saviour  well !  I  Vork  early  and  late,  and  provide  for 
my  family,  and  pray  morning  and  evening  in  few  words  for 
the  whole  city.'  Petrus,  it  seems  to  me,  is  such  a  one  as 
Phabis;  but  many  roads  lead  to  God,  and  we — and  I — " 

Again  a  cold  shiver  interrupted  his  meditation,  and  as  morn- 
ing approached  the  cold  was  so  keen  that  he  endeavored  to 
li^t  a  fire.  While  he  was  painfully  blowing  the  charcoal 
Hermas  came  up  to  him. 

He  had  learned  from  Polykarp's  escort  where  Paulus  was  to 
be  found,  and  as  he  stood  opposite  his  friend  he  grasped  his 
hand,  stroked  his  rough  hair,  and  thanked  him  with  deep  and 
tender  emotion  for  the  great  sacrifice  he  had  made  for  him 


V 


HOMO   SUM.  801 

when  he  had  taken  upon  himself  the  dishonoring  punishment 
of  his  fault. 

Paulus  declined  aU  pity  or  thanks,  and  spoke  to  Hermas  of 
his  father  and  of  his  future,  until  it  was  light,  and  the  young 
man  prepared  to  go  down  to  the  oasis  to  pay  the  last  honors  to 
ihe  dead.  To  his  entreaty  that  he  would  accompany  him, 
Paulus  only  answered: 

"  No — no;  not  now,  not  now;  for  if  I  were  to  mix  with  men 
now  I  should  fly  asunder  like  a  rotten  wine-skin  full  of  fer* 
menting  wine;  a  swarm  of  bees  is  buzzing  in  my  head,  and  an 
ant-hill  is  growing  in  my  bosom.  Go  now  and  leave  me 
alone." 

After  the  funeral  ceremony  Hermas  took  an  affectionato 
leave  of  Agapitus,  Petrus,  and  Dorothea,  and  then  returned 
to  the  Alexandrian,  with  whom  he  went  to  the  cave  where  ho 
had  so  long  lived  with  his  dead  father. 

There  Paulus  delivered  to  him  his  father's  letter  to  his 
imcle,  and  spoke  to  him  more  lovingly  than  he  had  ever  done 
before.  At  night  they  both  lay  down  on  their  beds,  but  neither 
of  them  found  rest  or  sleep. 

From  time  to  time  Paulus  murmured,  in  a  low  voice,  but  in 
tones  of  keen  anguish:  "  In  vain — all  in  vain!"  and  again, 
"  I  seek,  I  seek — but  who  can  show  me  the  way?" 

They  both  rose  before  day-break;  Hermas  went  once  more 
down  to  the  well,  knelt  down  near  it,  and  felt  as  though  he 
were  bidding  farewell  to  his  father  and  Miriam. 

Memories  of  every  kind  rose  up  in  his  soul,  and  so  mighty  is 
the  glorifying  power  of  love  that  the  miserable,  brown-skinned 
shepherdess  Miriam  seemed  to  him  a  thousand-fold  more  beau- 
tiful than  that  splendid  woman  who  filled  the  soul  of  a  great 
artist  with  delight. 

Shortly  after  sunrise  Paulus  conducted  him  to  the  fishing- 
port  and  to  the  Israehte  friend  who  managed  the  business  of 
his  father's  house;  he  caused  him  to  be  bountifully  suppUed 
with  gold  and  accompanied  him  to  the  ship  laden  with  charcoal 
that  was  to  convey  him  to  Klysma. 

The  parting  was  very  painful  to  him,  and  when  Hermas 
saw  his  eyes  full  of  tears  and  felt  his  hands  tremble,  he  said: 
"  Do  not  be  troubled  about  me,  Paulus;  we  shall  meet  again, 
and  I  will  never  forget  you  and  my  father. " 

"  And  your  mother,"  added  the  anchorite.  "  I  shall  miss 
you  sorely,  but  trouble  is  the  very  thing  I  look  for.  He  who 
succeeds  in  making  the  sorrows  of  the  whole  world  his  own — 
he  whose  soul  is  touched  by  a  sorrow  at  every  breath  he  draws 
— he  indeed  must  long  for  the  call  of  the  Redeemer." 


SOS  BOHO  StJM. 

Hermas  fell  weepmg  on  his  neck,  and  stairted  to  feel  how 
burning  the  anchorite's  lips  were  as  he  pressed  them  to  his 
forehead. 

At  last  the  sailors  drew  in  the  ropes;  Faulus  turned  once 
more  to  the  youth.  "  You  are  going  your  own  way  now,** 
he  said.  "  Do  not  forget  the  Holy  Mountain,  and  hear  this: 
Of  all  sins  three  are  most  deadly :  To  serve  false  gods,  to  covet 
your  neighbor's  wife,  and  to  raise  your  hands  to  kill;  keep 
yourself  from  them.  And  of  all  virtues  two  are  the  least  con- 
spicuous, and  at  the  same  time  the  greatest:  Truthfulness  and 
humility;  practice  these.  Of  all  consolations  these  two  are  the 
best:  The  consciousness  of  wishing  the  right,  however  much 
we  may  err  and  stumble  through  human  weakness,  and 
prayer.  ** 

Once  more  he  embraced  the  departing  youth,  then  he  wen'D 
across  the  sand  of  the  shore  back  to  the  mountain  withouK 
looking  round. 

Hermas  looked  after  him  for  a  long  time,  greatly  distressed, 
for  his  strong  friend  tottered  like  a  drunken  man  and  often 
pressed  his  hand  to  his  head,  which  was  no  doubt  as  burning 
as  his  lips. 

The  young  warrior  never  again  saw  the  Holy  Mountain  or 
Paulus,  but  after  he  himself  had  won  fame  and  distinction  in 
the  army  he  met  again  with  Petrus's  son,  Polykarp,  whom  the 
emperor  had  sent  for  to  Byzantium  with  great  honor,  and  in 
whose  house  the  Gaulish  woman  Sirona  presided  as  a  true  and 
loving  wife  and  mother. 

After  his  parting  from  Hermas  Paulus  disappeared.  The 
other  anchorites  long  sought  him  in  vain,  as  well  as  Bishop 
Agapitus,  who  had  learned  from  Petrus  that  the  Alexandrian 
liad  been  punished  and  expelled  in  innocence,  and  who  desired 
to  offer  him  pardon  and  consolation  in  his  own  person.  At 
last,  ten  days  after,  Orion  the  Saite  foimd  him  m  a  remote 
cave.  The  Angel  of  Death  had  called  him  only  a  few  hours 
before  while  in  the  act  of  prayer,  for  he  was  scarcely  cold.  He 
was  kneeling  with  his  forehead  against  the  rocky  w&ll,  and  his 
emaciated  hands  were  closely  clasped  over  Magdalen*s  ring. 
When  his  companions  had  laid  him  on  his  bier  his  noble, 
gentle  features  wore  a  pure  and  transfiguring  smile. 

The  news  of  his  death  flew  with  wonderful  rapidity  through 
the  oasis  and  the  fishing  town,  and  far  and  wide  to  the  caves 
of  the  anchorites,  and  even  to  the  huts  of  the  Amalekite  shep- 
herds. The  procession  that  followed  him  to  his  last  resting- 
place  stretched  to  an  invisible  distance:  in  front  of  all  walk^ 


^ 


HOMO   SUM.  203 

Agapitus  with  the  elders  and  deacons,  and  behind  them  Petrus 
with  his  wife  and  family,  to  which  Sirona  now  belonged. 
Polykarp,  who  was  now  recovering,  laid  a  palm-branch  in 
token  of  reconcilement  on  his  grave,  which  was  visited  as  a 
sacred  spot  by  the  many  whose  needs  he  had  alleviated  in 
secret,  and  before  long  hy  all  the  penitents  from  far  and  wide. 

Petrus  erected  a  monument  over  his  grave,  on  which 
Polykarp  incised  the  words  which  Paulus's  trembling  fingers 
had  traced  just  before  his  death  with  a  piece  of  charcoal  on 
Ihe  wall  of  his  cave: 

"  Pray  for  me,  a  miserable  man — for  I  was  a  man." 


IH5  UMSB, 


